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He strove to summon up that strength, but a sense of pity, that perhaps really was akin to love, intervened to prevent its advent. Charmian's eyes seemed to hold her soul in that moment. He could not strike it down into the dust of despair. Crayford's eyebrows twitched violently, and he turned the big cigar that was between his lips round and round.
"Crayford's a marvellous man. He'll lick the Metropolitan crowd yet. He's going to make me." "You mean you're going to make yourself?" interrupted Claude. "Takes two to do it!" Again he looked over to Charmian. "Without Crayford I should never have believed I could be a big opera singer. As it is, I mean to be. And, what is more, I know I shall be.
She had been uneasily conscious of that. But, nevertheless, it had grown within her, fostered by events. For Crayford's publicity agent had been masterly in his efforts. Charmian and Claude had been snapshotted on the deck of the ship by a little army of journalists. They had been snapshotted again on the gangplank. In the docks they had been interviewed by more than a dozen people.
The Heaths, Claude Heath, Charmian Heath, Claude Heath's opera, Armand Gillier and Claude Heath, Madame Sennier's quarrel with Claude Heath, Mrs. Heath's brilliant efforts for her talented husband, Joseph Crayford's opinion of Mrs.
"Doesn't the table look pretty, Alston, with Mr. Crayford's white heather?" She had Alston's red roses in her hand. "I am going to put your roses in water now." She turned again to the waiter. "Could I have some water put in that vase, please? And we'll have supper at once." "Certainly, ma'am!" "Come and see the menu, both of you, and tell me if you are satisfied with it."
Crayford interposed again, with a practical suggestion this time. "The luncheon is not unpacked yet," she said. "Come, Clara! this is our business, and the time is passing." "The luncheon can wait a few minutes longer," Clara answered. "Bear with my obstinacy," she went on, laying her hand caressingly on Crayford's shoulder. "Tell me how those two came to be separated from the rest.
And sometimes he was able, helped by the enthusiasm a genuine enthusiasm of his three companions, to be almost gay and hopeful, to be carried on by their hopes. As his enthusiasm of the soul died Jacob Crayford's was born; for where Claude lost he gained. He was now assisting to make an opera; with every day his fondness for the work increased.
She looked him searchingly in the face, then glanced with renewed distrust at Mrs. Crayford. There was a moment of silence. Before any of the three could speak again, they were interrupted by the appearance of one of Crayford's brother officers, followed by two sailors carrying a hamper between them.
Crayford's lively invention supplied her with an answer on the spur of the moment. "Do you believe in dreams, Frank? Of course you don't! Clara has been dreaming about you; and Clara is foolish enough to believe in dreams. That's all it's not worth talking about. Hark! they are calling you. Say good-by, or you will be too late for the boat." Frank took Clara's hand.
"Crayford's very clever at discovering singers." "Almost too clever for the Metropolitan, eh?" "Enid Mardon looks wonderful." Silence fell upon them again. The dressmaker had got up from her seat and slipped away into the darkness, after examining Enid Mardon's costume for two or three minutes through a small but powerful opera-glass. Charmian was now quite alone.
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