"Did you like it? I'm so glad. I was beginning to think you were a craftsman, but I believe you're an artist.… I'm full of accomplishments, Eric. Pity, isn't it, that in spite of it all——?"
She hesitated, wistfully provocative.
"What's a pity?" he asked.
"What you were thinking; that I am what I am."
"I wasn't thinking that," he answered dreamily. "I was wondering if you'd sing again. We couldn't hear you at all downstairs——"
"Enough to bring you up very quickly?"
He sighed with exasperation.
"Yes, if your vanity needs a sop. Was that why you sang?"
She shook her head at him wearily, and he saw undried tears on her cheeks.
"Marion just asked me to sing. It was either that or talking to Yolande Manisty, and I hate her. What would you like me to sing?"