The figure in the
cloak had turned but there was an unmistakeable suggestion of lingering
in her attitude.
"Man alive," laughed Jarvis, "your argument's unanswerable. We give you
best. Woman has conquered as she always does. Good luck."
Vane did not stay to listen to the banter of his friends but hastened
towards the cloak.
"You're my good angel," he whispered holding out both his hands.
"I'm afraid I've come at a wrong moment. I'm taking you from your
friends," said the girl in the cloak a little coldly.
"You're offended. Pray forgive me if I've done anything wrong."
"Not to me. Perhaps to yourself. But I ought not to say ... no, what you
do is nothing to me."
"Do you really mean that?"
"Why not? You know it as well as I do--may be better."
"Indeed, I don't. Forgive me if I've allowed myself to think that I was
of some interest to you. Of course I was foolish to have such fancies.
Still, you've been so kind.... I hardly like to ask you if you have seen
Mr. Gay ... and ... and ... my tragedy...."
Vane could not conceal his agitation. Lavinia took pity on him and her
manner softened in that subtle inexplicable way which women have.
"Yes, I've seen him and I gave him your play."
"Ah, I can never thank you sufficiently. And what did he say?"
"He put the play in his pocket and promised to read it. He could not do
any more, could he?" Lavinia quickly added seeing disappointment written
in the young dramatist's face.
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