Oh, my opinion is of no value! I think you have improved; but, you know, I like your ideal work best.

Denham.

This is miles ahead of anything I have done.

Mrs. Denham.

Perhaps--as a piece of painting.

Denham.

I am finding my way at last. Here is the cheque.

Mrs. Denham.

(_crosses L, takes cheque, and crosses C_) You will stay to dinner, Blanche, of course?

Mrs. Tremaine.

Thanks very much, but I can't possibly.

Denham.

I am so sorry, but why?

Mrs. Tremaine.

(_waving the letter, crosses in front of easel, and goes down R_) Work, work! I have got an engagement.

Mrs. Denham.

I congratulate you.

Denham.

But what is it? You have never told us what you have been working at in secret.

Mrs. Tremaine.

No. It might have come to nothing. I am to sing three songs at a private concert.

Denham.

A good house?

Mrs. Tremaine.

Capital--and good people to hear me. I may choose my own songs, Italian, German, or English. I have a fortnight to prepare, and I am to be _paid_!

Denham.

Brava!

Mrs. Denham.

You are not going just yet?

Mrs. Tremaine.

No, not immediately. (_Crosses to "throne" and sits again. Denham follows her._)

Mrs. Denham.

We shall meet again then. Good-bye!

Mrs. Tremaine.

(_as Denham arranges her skirt_) _A bientot!_

(_Exit Mrs. Denham. Denham begins to paint._)

Denham.

Well, you mysterious creature, I think you have chosen your profession well. Your voice is lovely, and your style--well, not bad in these days of execrable singing.

Mrs. Tremaine.

Do you know, it was your praise that made me think seriously of this?

Denham.

(_absorbed in painting_) Really? But why would you never sing to me since that evening?

Mrs. Tremaine.

I have been working so hard; I wanted to surprise you.

Denham.

And now you will?

Mrs. Tremaine.

Perhaps--some time. (_A pause, Denham painting in silence._)

Denham.

Come down and look at this thing now. I can do no more to it.