"The London girls sing in German, Italian, Spanish, and English.

Nobody knows what they are saying: they scarcely know themselves--but it's all right, and quite fashionable." Thelma laughed gaily.

"How funny!" she exclaimed.

"It is to amuse people, I suppose! Well,--now listen." And, playing a soft prelude, her rich contralto rippled forth in a tender, passionate, melancholy melody,--so sweet and heart-penetrating that the practical Macfarlane sat as one in a dream,--Duprez forgot to finish making the cigarette he was daintily manipulating between his fingers, and Lorimer had much ado to keep tears from his eyes.

From one song she glided to another and yet another; her soul seemed possessed by the very spirit of music.
Meanwhile Errington, in obedience to an imperative sign from old Gueldmar, left the saloon, with him,--once outside the doors the _bonde_ said in a somewhat agitated voice-- "I desire to speak to you, Sir Philip, alone and undisturbed, if such a thing be possible." "By all means!" answered Philip.