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Paul had a very indifferent baritone voice, but a good ear.
However, he sang softly, for fear of Clara. Edgar repeated the line in a
clear tenor. At times they both broke off to sneeze, and first one, then
the other, abused his horse.
Miriam was impatient of men. It took so little to amuse them--even Paul.
She thought it anomalous in him that he could be so thoroughly absorbed
in a triviality.
It was tea-time when they had finished.
"What song was that?" asked Miriam.
Edgar told her. The conversation turned to singing.
"We have such jolly times," Miriam said to Clara.
Mrs. Dawes ate her meal in a slow, dignified way. Whenever the men were
present she grew distant.
"Do you like singing?" Miriam asked her.
"If it is good," she said.
Paul, of course, coloured.
"You mean if it is high-class and trained?" he said.
"I think a voice needs training before the singing is anything," she
said.
"You might as well insist on having people's voices trained before you
allowed them to talk," he replied.


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