"You're booking up pretty deep for the winter, then, I suppose?"
Nan winced at the professional jargon. There was certain aspects of a musician's life which repelled her, more particularly the commercial side of it.
"No. I haven't booked a single further engagement. The ha'pence are due to an avuncular relative who has a quite inexplicable penchant for an idle niece."
"My congratulations. Still, I hope this unexpected windfall isn't going to keep you off the concert platform altogether?"
"Not more than my own distaste for playing in public," she answered. "I'd much rather write music than perform."
"I can hardly believe you really dislike the publicity? The fascination of it grows on most of us."
"I know it does. I suppose that accounts for the endless farewell concerts a declining singer generally treats us to."
There was an unwonted touch of sharpness in her voice, and Fenton glanced at her in some surprise. It was unlike her to give vent to such an acid little speech. He could not know, of course, that Kitty's light-hearted remark concerning Peter Mallory's facilities for studying the feminine temperament was still rankling somewhere at the back of her mind.
"There's a big element of pathos in those farewell concerts," he submitted gently. "You pianists have a great advantage over the singer, whose instrument must inevitably deteriorate with the passing years."
Nan's quick sympathies responded instantly.
"I think I must be getting soured in my old age," she answered remorsefully. "What you say is dreadfully true. It's the saddest part of a singer's career. And I always clap my hardest at a farewell concert. I do, really!"
"I shall count on you, then, when I give mine."
"It's a solemn pledge--provided I'm still cumbering the ground. And now, tell me, are you singing here this evening?"
"I promised Mrs. Seymour. Would you be good enough to accompany?"
"I should love it. What are you going to sing?"
"Miss Craig and I proposed to give a duet."
"And here comes Kitty--to claim your promise, I guess."
A few minutes later the two singers' voices were blending delightfully together, while Nan's slight, musician's fingers threaded their way through intricacies of the involved accompaniment.