“I’ve forbidden myself the word ‘trouble.’  It builds a wall.  And I’ve just broken through my wall.  I could have done it sooner and better if I’d learned more difficult things, that’s all.  When I wanted to do something for myself—­why, I couldn’t do a thing that was any good in a busy world.  I’d had no training except for my voice.”

“There!  I thought you sounded as if you had a voice!”

“I thought so, too.  But that was another of my mistakes.”

“I bet it wasn’t.”

“You’d lose your money, Mr. Rolls.  I spent most of mine before I found out.  You see, my mother left a little.  It wasn’t to come to me till I was twenty-one, but all sorts of things happened.  My father kept me at school till a year and a half ago because he didn’t know what to do with me.  Then my little brother died.  I ought to have cared more, but I hardly knew him.  His coming killed my mother; and he loved that woman.  I don’t see how he could!

“When he was gone, people might have gossiped about her and father perhaps.  I believe she suggested it to him and said she must go away, to make him think of marrying her; but all he did was to send for me.  I stood it for six months.  It was horrid for all three.  I dare say I was to blame.  I had a scene with father, and told him I’d made up my mind to go to London for singing lessons so I could support myself:  I couldn’t live at home.  That forced the situation!  Before any one—­except the ’lady housekeeper’—­knew quite what was happening, father had asked her to be his wife—­or she’d asked him.  I went before the wedding.  I’d worshipped my mother!  And—­but that’s all the story.”

“I call it only the preface.  What about London?”

“Oh, father gave me my money ahead of time, for the lessons.  He didn’t approve, on principle, but he would have had no peace with me at home, and he likes peace better than anything.  I had to promise I wouldn’t go into musical comedy.  That makes me laugh now!  But I thought then I’d only to ask and to have.  I took lessons of a man who’d been a celebrated tenor.  He must have known that my voice was nothing, really, but he buoyed me up.  I suppose they’re all like that.  It’s business.

“When the money was two thirds spent I dared not go on, and I asked him to find me something to do.  He’d often said he would when the right time came.  Apparently it hadn’t come.  He made the excuse that I ought to have stayed with him longer.  It would hurt his reputation to launch a pupil too soon.  So I had to try to launch myself.  And it didn’t work.  One manager of opera companies on whom I forced myself tested my voice and said it wasn’t strong enough—­only a twilight voice for a drawing-room, he called it.  I was broken up—­just at first.”

“Poor child!” Peter muttered, but the girl’s quick ears caught the words over the roar of that “ill wind” which had brought them together.