And trotted out of the room beside her with his small head well up.
Left alone, Davilof and Magda smiled across at one another.
"Funny little person, isn't he ?" she said.
The musician nodded.
"Grown-ups might possibly envy the freedom of speech permitted to childhood," he said quietly.

Then, still more quietly: "'Fairy Lady, you are so beautiful!'" "But you're not a child, so don't poach Coppertop's preserves!" retorted Magda swiftly.

"Let's get to work, Antoine.

I'll just change into my practice-kit and then I want to run through the 'Swan-Maiden's' dance.
You fix the lighting." She vanished into an adjoining room, while Davilof proceeded to switch off most of the burners, leaving only those which illumined the space in front of the great mirror.

The remainder of the big room receded into a grey twilight encircling the patch of luminance.
Presently Magda reappeared wearing a loose tunic of some white silken material, girdled at the waist, but yet leaving her with perfect freedom of limb.
Davilof watched her as she came down the long room with the feather-light, floating walk of the trained dancer, and something leaped into his eyes that was very different from mere admiration--something that, taken in conjunction with Lady Arabella's caustic comments of a few days ago, might have warned Magda had she seen it.
But with her thoughts preoccupied by the work in hand she failed to notice it, and, advancing till she faced the great mirror, she executed a few steps in front of it, humming the motif of _The Swan-Maiden_ music under her breath.
"Play, Antoine," she threw at him over her shoulder.
Davilof hesitated, made a movement towards her, then wheeled round abruptly and went to the piano.