“I hope, Miss McQuinch,” he said in a low tone, “that you will be able to relieve Marian at the piano next time.  You know how she dislikes having to play accompaniments for strangers.”

“How mean it is of you to be jealous of a plumber!” said Miss McQuinch, with a quick glance at him which she did not dare to sustain, so fiercely did he return it.

When she looked again, he seemed unconscious of her presence, and was buttoning his overcoat.

“Really going at last, Sholto?” said Marian.  Douglas bowed.

“I told you you wouldnt be able to stand it, old man,” said Marmaduke.  “Mrs. Bluestockings wont be pleased with you for not staying to hear her recite.”  This referred to Mrs. Fairfax, who had just gone upon the platform.

“Good night,” said Miss McQuinch, shortly, anxious to test how far he was offended, but unwilling to appear solicitous for a reconciliation.

“Until to-morrow, farewell,” he said, approaching Marian, who gave him her hand with a smile:  Conolly looking thoughtfully at him meanwhile.  He left the room; and so, Mrs. Fairfax having gone to the platform to recite, quiet prevailed for a few minutes.

“Shall I have the pleasure of playing the accompaniment to your next song?” said Conolly, sitting down near Marian.

“Thank you,” said Marian, shrinking a little:  “I think Miss McQuinch knows it by heart.”  Then, still anxious to be affable to the workman, she added, “Lord Jasper says you are a great musician.”

“No, I am an electrician.  Music is not my business:  it is my amusement.”

“You have invented something very wonderful, have you not?”

“I have discovered something, and I am trying to invent a means of turning it to account.  It will be only a cheap electro-motor if it comes to anything.”

“You must explain that to me some day, Mr. Conolly.  I’m afraid I dont know what an electro-motor means.”

“I ought not to have mentioned it,” said Conolly.  “It is so constantly in my mind that I am easily led to talk about it.  I try to prevent myself, but the very effort makes me think of it more than ever.”

“But I like to hear you talk about it,” said Marian.  “I always try to make people talk shop to me, and of course they always repay me by trying to keep on indifferent topics, of which I know as much—­or as little—­as they.”

“Well, then,” said Conolly, “an electro-motor is only an engine for driving machinery, just like a steam engine, except that it is worked by electricity instead of steam.  Electric engines are so imperfect now that steam ones come cheaper.  The man who finds out how to make the electric engine do what the steam engine now does, and do it cheaper, will make his fortune if he has his wits about him.  Thats what I am driving at.”

Miss Lind, in spite of her sensible views as to talking shop, was not interested in the least.  “Indeed!” she said.  “How interesting that must be!  But how did you find time to become so perfect a musician, and to sing so exquisitely?”