s and
cream cheese for Mr. Ottenburg. And in about fifteen minutes, bring some
fresh toast. That's all, thank you."

For the next few minutes there was a clatter of teacups and responses
about sugar. "Landry always takes rum. I'm glad the rest of you don't.
I'm sure it's bad." Thea poured the tea standing and got through with it
as quickly as possible, as if it were a refreshment snatched between
trains. The tea-table and the little room in which it stood seemed to be
out of scale with her long step, her long reach, and the energy of her
movements. Dr. Archie, standing near her, was pleasantly aware of the
animation of her figure. Under the clinging velvet, her body seemed
independent and unsubdued.

They drifted, with their plates and cups, back to the music-room. When
Thea followed them, Ottenburg put down his tea suddenly. "Aren't you
taking anything? Please let me." He started back to the table.

"No, thank you, nothing. I'm going to run over that aria for you
presently, to convince you that I can do it. How did the duet go, with
Schlag?"

She was standing in the doorway and Fred came up to her: "That you'll
never do any better. You've worked your voice into it perfectly. Every
NUANCE--wonderful!"

"Think so?" She gave him a sidelong glance and spoke with a certain
gruff shyness which did not deceive anybody, and was not meant to
deceive. The tone was equivalent to "Keep it up. I like it, but I'm
awkward with it."

Fred held her by the door and did keep it up, furiously, for full five
minutes. She took it with some confusion, seeming all the while to be
hesitating, to be arrested in her course and trying to pass him. But she
did not really try to pass, and her color deepened. Fred spoke in
German, and Archie caught from her an occasional JA? SO? muttered rather
than spoken.

When they rejoined Landry and Dr. Archie, Fred took up his tea again. "I
see you're singing VENUS Saturday night. Will they never let you have a
chance at ELIZABETH?"

She shrugged her shoulders. "Not here. There are so many singers here,
and they try us out in such a stingy way. Think of it, last year I came
over in October, and it was the first of December before I went on at
all! I'm often sorry I left Dresden."

"Still," Fred argued, "Dresden is limited."

"Just so, and I've begun to sigh for those very limitations. In New York
everything is impersonal. Your audience never knows its own mind, and
its mind is never twice the sam