Isn't that so, Mr. Gay? Mr. Gay has great hopes of you, my dear
and--but you'd better hear what he has to say."
"Oh, I should dearly love to," murmured Lavinia.
They were now in the green room. Mrs. Fitzgerald was on the stage
singing "in English and French," and her shrill tones penetrated the
thin walls greatly to Gay's discomfort. The lady's voice was not
particularly sweet.
"Let us walk apart, Polly," said he. "We shan't hear that noise so
keenly."
He took her arm and placed it beneath his.
"Spiller's right, my dear. I have great hopes of you, but your chance
won't come for months. The time won't be lost if you work hard at
everything Huddy puts in your way. You'll have plenty of variety, but
you won't earn much money. The sharing out system puts the lion's
portion into the manager's pocket. But that can't be helped. Still, if
you want money--the duchess----"
"Oh, Mr. Gay," broke in Lavinia anxiously, "I've been sorely worried
thinking of her grace. Have you told her?--I mean about me running away
from school and--and----"
Gay laughed and playfully pinched her cheek.
"The love story, eh? Yes, I told the duchess, and she was vastly
entertained. She's a woman of infinite spirit and she likes other women
to have spirit too. She's not without romance--and I wouldn't give a
thank-you for her if she were. If you'd run off out of restlessness or a
mere whim or fit of temper, I doubt if she'd troubled about you further;
but love--that was another thing altogether.
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