“Oh, don't stop!” they cried in chorus, as though each had been listening intently.
The girl laughed up at Orde in amusement. Somehow this flash of an especial understanding between them to the exclusion of the others sent a warm glow to his heart.
“I do wish you had your harp here,” said Jane Hubbard, coming indolently forward. “You just ought to hear her play the harp,” she told the rest. “It's just the best thing you ever DID hear!”
At this moment the outside door opened to admit Mr and Mrs. Hubbard, who had, according to their usual Sunday custom, been spending the evening with a neighbour. This was the signal for departure. The company began to break up.
Orde pushed his broad shoulders in to screen Carroll Bishop from the others.
“Are you staying here?” he asked.
She opened her eyes wide at his brusqueness.
“I'm visiting Jane,” she replied at length, with an affectation of demureness.
“Are you going to be here long?” was Orde's next question.
“About a month.”