rather vexed. 'He is sure of himself, isn't he?'
'Well, of course, darling. Men like Stephen Tarkman don't get where they are by being u rasure of themselves,' Anthea pointed out. 'Isn't it true, then?'
'It's true that he asked me, just before the rest of the guests arrived. I was to think it over and let him know my decision at the end of the evening.'
'And you're busy thinking out ways of refusing?' inquired Anthea with a sceptical smile.
'No, of course not!' said Felicity. And then they both laughed so much that Stephen Tarkman who was passing stopped to ask with a smile if they were recalling their misspent student days together.
'We haven't got to the past yet,' Anthea assured him gaily. 'We were talking about the future — and about Felicity coming to teach at Tarkmans.'
"And is Felicity coming to teach at Tarkmans?' His amused glance moved so quickly to the other girl that he could not have failed to catch the look of sparkling delight which brightened her eyes and parted her lips.
'Yes, please,' she said, with the naive and breathless eagerness of a child. And at the same moment Julia Morton came up, slipped her arm into Stephen Tarkmans, and inquired what discussion was making Miss Grainger look so starry-eyed.
'It's not a discussion. It's a decision,' Stephen Tarkman informed her. 'Felicity — Miss Grainger — is going to take some classes for us at Tarkmans.'
'But I thought—' there was an almost imperceptible hardening of that charming voice — 'I thought Miss Grainger had a full-time post at Carmalton School!'
'She has,' he replied coolly. 'But arrangements can be made. I've already had a word with her headmistress about that.*
'Have you?' Felicity was astonished.
Mrs. Morton was evidently astonished too, and not pleasantly so. But she laughed and said in an amusedly admonishing sort of tone, 'You do get busy in holiday time, don't you, Stephen?'
'Of course. Sometimes one does more in holiday time than term time,' he agreed easily. Then he passed on, taking her with him, and Anthea, looking intrigued, murmured,
'Who is she? I was introduced, but I've forgotten her name.'
'Mrs. Morton,' said Felicity, carefully confining herself to the exact question.
But that was not enough for Anthea, who replied promptly, 'Don't be cagey. Why was she mad at the idea of your coming to Tarkmans? Is she jealous or something?'
'She has no reason to be.'
'Jealousy isn't based on reason,' retorted Anthea.
'We clashed rather over her niece, who is a pupil of mine,' Felicity admitted. 'And I think I said more than was advisable.'
She laughed slightly, but Anthea did not. Instead she looked thoughtfully after the woman who had just left them, and after a moment she said. 'Shall I tell you something? She's dangerous, that woman. If she were a rival soprano — I'd be just a little bit afraid of her.'
'Would you?' Felicity glanced at her friend curiously. 'Why?'
'Partly because she doesn't show her real feelings at all. She just bottles them up and smiles. I've seen the same thing in my profession, and it nearly always means danger. The extroverts like Torelli, for instance, can rage and behave abominably and enjoy a scene and forget it. It's about as dangerous as a nosebleed in an ordinary person. But the cold sweet ones, like Peroni, will smile entrancingly as they hand you the poisoned cup.' And she gave an odd little shiver.
'You're surely not afraid of Peroni nowadays?' Felicity smiled incredulously, though she remembered that some people said the famous soprano had preceded Anthea in Warrender's affections as well as in the roles in which the younger woman now excelled. 'I thought she retired some time last year.'
'Oh, yes. At least, she gave a farewell appearance. There's no professional rivalry between us nowadays. But do you know, Felicity, if I'm aware that she's in the audience I'm never on top form. I can't tell you why. She just has that effect upon me. Though he says nothing, I think Oscar goes to
'Well, of course, darling. Men like Stephen Tarkman don't get where they are by being u rasure of themselves,' Anthea pointed out. 'Isn't it true, then?'
'It's true that he asked me, just before the rest of the guests arrived. I was to think it over and let him know my decision at the end of the evening.'
'And you're busy thinking out ways of refusing?' inquired Anthea with a sceptical smile.
'No, of course not!' said Felicity. And then they both laughed so much that Stephen Tarkman who was passing stopped to ask with a smile if they were recalling their misspent student days together.
'We haven't got to the past yet,' Anthea assured him gaily. 'We were talking about the future — and about Felicity coming to teach at Tarkmans.'
"And is Felicity coming to teach at Tarkmans?' His amused glance moved so quickly to the other girl that he could not have failed to catch the look of sparkling delight which brightened her eyes and parted her lips.
'Yes, please,' she said, with the naive and breathless eagerness of a child. And at the same moment Julia Morton came up, slipped her arm into Stephen Tarkmans, and inquired what discussion was making Miss Grainger look so starry-eyed.
'It's not a discussion. It's a decision,' Stephen Tarkman informed her. 'Felicity — Miss Grainger — is going to take some classes for us at Tarkmans.'
'But I thought—' there was an almost imperceptible hardening of that charming voice — 'I thought Miss Grainger had a full-time post at Carmalton School!'
'She has,' he replied coolly. 'But arrangements can be made. I've already had a word with her headmistress about that.*
'Have you?' Felicity was astonished.
Mrs. Morton was evidently astonished too, and not pleasantly so. But she laughed and said in an amusedly admonishing sort of tone, 'You do get busy in holiday time, don't you, Stephen?'
'Of course. Sometimes one does more in holiday time than term time,' he agreed easily. Then he passed on, taking her with him, and Anthea, looking intrigued, murmured,
'Who is she? I was introduced, but I've forgotten her name.'
'Mrs. Morton,' said Felicity, carefully confining herself to the exact question.
But that was not enough for Anthea, who replied promptly, 'Don't be cagey. Why was she mad at the idea of your coming to Tarkmans? Is she jealous or something?'
'She has no reason to be.'
'Jealousy isn't based on reason,' retorted Anthea.
'We clashed rather over her niece, who is a pupil of mine,' Felicity admitted. 'And I think I said more than was advisable.'
She laughed slightly, but Anthea did not. Instead she looked thoughtfully after the woman who had just left them, and after a moment she said. 'Shall I tell you something? She's dangerous, that woman. If she were a rival soprano — I'd be just a little bit afraid of her.'
'Would you?' Felicity glanced at her friend curiously. 'Why?'
'Partly because she doesn't show her real feelings at all. She just bottles them up and smiles. I've seen the same thing in my profession, and it nearly always means danger. The extroverts like Torelli, for instance, can rage and behave abominably and enjoy a scene and forget it. It's about as dangerous as a nosebleed in an ordinary person. But the cold sweet ones, like Peroni, will smile entrancingly as they hand you the poisoned cup.' And she gave an odd little shiver.
'You're surely not afraid of Peroni nowadays?' Felicity smiled incredulously, though she remembered that some people said the famous soprano had preceded Anthea in Warrender's affections as well as in the roles in which the younger woman now excelled. 'I thought she retired some time last year.'
'Oh, yes. At least, she gave a farewell appearance. There's no professional rivalry between us nowadays. But do you know, Felicity, if I'm aware that she's in the audience I'm never on top form. I can't tell you why. She just has that effect upon me. Though he says nothing, I think Oscar goes to
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