"Don't
you know?"
"Well, yes, she is," he admitted. "I've scarcely noticed her. Oh, but
yes, she is; and she sings very well. Yes, I can understand her making
a sensation in the servants' hall--she makes one in the drawing-room.
But she's not my style of beauty. See here, dearest: it doesn't sound
nice, but though I've spent some hours with Miss Falconer and listened
to her singing, I have only just noticed that she is good-looking, and
that she has a wonderful voice: they say up at the Villa that there's
nothing like it on the stage--excepting Patti's and Melba's; but all
the time she has been there I have had another face, another voice, in
my mind. Ever since I saw you, down there by the river, I have had no
eyes for any other woman's face, however beautiful, no ears for any
other woman's voice, however sweet." She was silent a moment, as she
clasped her hands and laid them against his cheek.
"How strange it sounds! But if you had chanced to see her
first--perhaps you would not have fallen in love with me? How could you
have done so? She is so very lovely--I can see she is, by Jessie's
description.
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