Читать книгу The Ball of Fire онлайн

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“He’s perfectly splendid!” she beamed. “He has the richest baritone I’ve ever heard.”

“It blends so perfectly with Gail’s,” supplemented the admiring Aunt Grace. “We must have him over so you may hear them sing.”

“I’ll be delighted,” lied Mr. Clemmens, shooting another glance of displeasure at Gail.

Somehow, Aunt Grace felt that there was an atmosphere of discomfort in the room, and she thought she had better go upstairs, to worry about it.

“You’ll take dinner with us to-morrow evening, I hope,” she cordially invited.

“You won’t have to ask me twice,” laughed Mr. Clemmens, rising because Aunt Grace did. He was always punctilious, and the manner of his courtesies showed that he was punctilious.

“Well, girl, tell me all about it,” heartily began the young man from home, when Aunty had made her apologies and her departure. He imprisoned her hand in his, and seated her on the couch, and sat beside her, crossing his legs comfortably.

“I’ve been having a delightful time,” replied Gail. “Suppose we go over to the blue room, Howard. It’s much more pleasant, I think.” She wanted to be away from the piano. It distressed her.