Yielding to a daring impulse, she drew it hastily forward.

"Here's a new one--a brand-new one, not even printed yet.

Don't you think the words are pretty ?" she asked.
As she had hoped, Alice Greggory's eyes, after they had glanced half-way through the first page, sought the name at the left side below the title.
"'Words by M.J.--'"-- there was a visible start, and a pause before the "'Arkwright'" was uttered in a slightly different tone.
Billy noted both the start and the pause--and gloried in them.
"Yes; the words are by M.J.Arkwright," she said with smooth unconcern, but with a covert glance at the other's face.

"Ever hear of him ?" Alice Greggory gave a short little laugh.
"Probably not--this one.

I used to know an M.J.Arkwright, long ago; but he wasn't--a poet, so far as I know," she finished, with a little catch in her breath that made Billy long to take her into a warm embrace.
Alice Greggory turned then to the music.