America. He stopped. Let me see, what am I doing tonight? O! yes, I know. I won't do that. Will you go with me to hear Aphrodite?
Of course, I will. I have just come to Paris and I want to do and hear and see everything.
Well, we'll go, he announced, but I noted that his tone was curiously indecisive. We'll go to dinner first.
You're not going to dinner yet? Martha demanded rather querulously.
Not quite yet. Then, turning to Clara, How's the Voice?
It was my first intimation that Clara had thus symbolized her talent in the third person. People were not expected to refer to her as Clara or Miss Barnes; she was the Voice.
The Voice is doing very well indeed, Clara, now quite mollified, rejoined. I'm studying Manon, and if you like Mary Garden, wait until you hear me!
Peter continued to manipulate Clara with the proper address. The conversation bubbled or languished, I forget, which; at any rate, a half hour or so later, Peter and I were seated in a taxi-cab, bound for Foyot's where he had decided we would dine; at least I thought he had decided, but soon he seemed doubtful.
Foyot's, Foyot's, he rolled the name meditatively over on his tongue. I don't know. . . .
We leaned back against the seat and drank in the soft air. I don't think that we talked very much.
