Maggie had sung two songs.

Steinmetz had performed on the piano with a marvellous touch.

All had played their parts with the brazen faces which Steinmetz, in his knowledge of many nations, assigned to the Anglo-Saxon race before others.
At last Etta rose to go to bed, with a little sharp sigh of great suspense.

It was coming.
She went up to her room, bidding Maggie good-night in the passage.

In a mechanical way she allowed the deft-handed maid to array her in a dressing gown--soft, silken, a dainty triumph in its way.