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Updated: June 10, 2025
"I only know it is supremely ridiculous," she returned, more coldly; "yet if I did not believe you spoke with some degree of honesty I should deem your words a deliberate insult, and treat them accordingly. As it is, I prefer regarding your speech merely as an evidence of temporary insanity. Ned Winston making love to Beth Norvell!
"The very conception brings me uneasiness in fear lest my presence may be unwelcome now that Mooney has been safely left behind. Yet it yields me boldness also, and I venture to ask Miss Norvell what she would probably have answered had Mooney been left out of the problem entirely?" His low voice held a ring of subdued earnestness, and the face of the woman as quickly lost its smile.
This, perhaps, will partially account for my persistency and for my still being with 'The Heart of the World. But all else aside, I early became intensely interested in your work, Miss Norvell, instantly recognizing that it required no common degree of ability to yield dignity to so poor a thing as the play in which you appear.
She said nothing, but he clearly read a farther unasked question in her face. "I remain here, Miss Norvell, while you do. I shall be among your audiences at the Gayety. I do not altogether agree that your choice has been a correct one, but I do sincerely believe in you, in your motives, and, whether you desire it or not, I propose to constitute myself your special guardian.
As though she had dropped into an ocean of oblivion, Beth Norvell disappeared. Winston had no longer the slightest hope that a word from her would ever come, and there were times when he wondered if it was not better so if, after all, she had not chosen rightly. Love untarnished lived in his heart; yet, as she had told him out in the desert, love could never change the deed.
Winston permitted his cool gray eyes to brighten, his firmly set lips slightly to relax. "Lane is the merest buffoon," he replied quietly. "You are an artist. There is no comparison possible, Miss Norvell. The play itself is utterly unworthy of your talent, yet you succeed in dignifying it in a way I can never cease to admire."
Reluctantly the puzzled American slowly followed, dipping down into the black labyrinth leading beneath the stage. Amid silence and darkness Mercedes grasped her arm firmly, leading unhesitatingly forward. Standing within the glare of light streaming through the partially open door. Miss Norvell drew a sudden breath of relief.
Miss Norvell evidently considered such casual conversation no foundation for future friendship, and although she greeted him when they again met, much as she acknowledged acquaintanceship with the others of the troupe, there remained a quiet reserve about her manner, which effectually barred all thought of possible familiarity.
"The son of Colonel Winston acting as utility for a troupe of strollers! I can hardly believe it true." Winston laughed. "It does seem a trifle out of proportion," he confessed, "and I can hardly hope to make the situation entirely clear. Yet I am not quite so unworthy my birthright as would appear upon the surface. I will trust you with a portion of the story, at least, Miss Norvell.
Winston did not alter his chosen position, but remained with watchful eyes never long straying from off the ladies' entrance, a few steps to his left. All at once that slightly used door opened, and the hot blood leaped through his veins as Miss Norvell stepped forth unaccompanied.
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