"You sing all right; you are doing your part—as far as I can discover."
"There is nothing for you to discover that I have not told you," she said gravely. In her manner there was a subdued dignity which he had noticed recently—something of the self-confidence of the very young and unspoiled—which, considering all things, he could not exactly account for.
"Does that doddering old dancing-master of yours behave himself?"
"Yes—since you spoke to him. Mr. Bulder came to the school again."
"What did you say to him?"
"I told him that you wouldn't let me sing in 'The Inca.'"
"And what did Bulder say?"
"He was persistent but perfectly respectful; asked if he might confer with you. He wrote to you I think, didn't he?"
Malcourt nodded and lighted a cigarette.
"Dolly," he said, "do you want to sing Chaské in 'The Inca' next winter?"