"It's been too easy, too casual!" she cried. "You've taken it as a matter of course. Neither of you appreciate what you are to the other—I'm simply speaking from my impression; Babs hasn't said anything, naturally, and I've hardly had two words with you until to-night——; if it had been less easy——"
"If your uncle had forbidden me the house?" he suggested.
"If either of you were in danger of losing the other … I wonder what you think of me, talking like this?"
"I'm grateful."
The music came to an end, and Gerald Deganway gave imitations of the various ministers whom he had served as private secretary. Eric looked across the room and identified Barbara leaning against the piano. She was better, happier; and he had grown to be very fond of her. So long as they met daily without marrying, he shirked deciding whether he wanted to marry her. It would be pleasant to drift; but, when the cloud of gossip and speculation penetrated into the heart of the Crawleighs' own home, a man of honour could not shirk the decision any longer. He could ask Barbara to marry him; or her father could inspire a paragraph in the press, admitting the rumour in order to contradict it. Failing that, he would have to say good-bye to her, though she had become so much a habit as almost to be part of his life.…
The imitations were succeeded by more music, and Eric threaded his way to the piano where Carstairs and Oakleigh were begging Barbara to sing.
"Honestly, I've no voice to-night," he heard her say.
As he drew near, she seemed to feel his presence and turned with a quick smile.
"Can't you manage one?" he asked.
"Well, perhaps one, if you want me to. What shall it be?"