A short silence fell.
"Are you really going to sing at the Firemen's Ball?" she asked curiously.
"I haven't been asked yet," he reminded her. "Don't you think it a good idea?"
"Oh, I don't know," said Nan, but her voice had a little edge. Keith felt it, and made the usual masculine blunder. He stopped short, thunderstruck at a new idea.
"Why, Nan," he cried reproachfully, "I don't believe you like her!"
"Like her!" she flashed back, her anger leaping to unreasonable proportions—"that old frump!"
No sooner had the door closed after them than Morrell's conventional smile faded, and his countenance fell into its usual hard, cold impassivity.
"Well, what is the game there?" he demanded.
"There is no game," she replied indifferently.
"There is very little money there, I warn you," he persisted.