There could be no doubt that had the voice been more powerful, Lady Bridget might have done well on the operatic stage.
Yet it had a TIMBRE, a peculiar, devil-may-care passion which produced a very thrilling effect upon her audience.

She got up when she had finished in a dead silence and was half-way across the room before the applause burst out.

There was a little rush of men towards her.
'Beats Zelie de Lussan and runs Calve hard,' said the Premier who had made more than one trip to England and considered himself an authority in the matter.
Bridget skimmed through the groups of admirers, stopping to murmur something to Lady Tallant who had met her half way; then stopped with hands before her like a meek schoolgirl, in front of Mrs Gildea and Colin McKeith--he almost the only man who had made no movement towards her.

Bridget sank into her former seat.
'The last time I sang that was at a Factory Girls' entertainment at Poplar,' she said...

'You should have seen them, Joan: they stood up and tried to sing in chorus and some of them came on to the platform and danced....