For her part, she did not see why they were struggling so hard, anyway.

Why needn't they go ahead and sing their duet like two solos if they wanted to?
As if a little thing like that could make a feather's weight of difference in the grand total of to-morrow night's wretchedness when the final curtain should have been rung down on their shame! "Miss Neilson, you aren't--crying!" exclaimed a low voice; and Billy turned to find Arkwright standing by her side in the dim light.
"Oh, no--yes--well, maybe I was, a little," stammered Billy, trying to speak very unconcernedly.

"How warm it is in here! Do you think it's going to rain ?--that is, outdoors, of course, I mean." Arkwright dropped into the seat behind Billy and leaned forward, his eyes striving to read the girl's half-averted face.

If Billy had turned, she would have seen that Arkwright's own face showed white and a little drawn-looking in the feeble rays from the light by the piano.

But Billy did not turn.