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Alsager, of whom indeed her imagination appeared adequately to have disposed. Wayworth once remarked to her that Nona Vincent was supposed to be a good deal like his charming friend; but she gave a blank "Supposed by whom?" in consequence of which he never returned to the subject. He confided his nervousness as freely as usual to Mrs.
"She isn't IN it!" "Do you mean she has failed?" "Yes, damn it she has failed." Wayworth stared. "Then how can the play be all right?" "Oh, we'll save it we'll save it." "Where's Miss Grey where IS she?" the young man asked. Loder caught his arm as he was turning away again to look for his heroine. "Never mind her now she knows it!"
All my courage came back to me, and other things came that I hadn't felt before. She was different she was delightful; as I've said, she was a revelation. She kissed me when she went away and you may guess if I kissed HER. We were awfully affectionate, but it's YOU she likes!" said Violet Grey. Wayworth had never been more interested in his life, and he had rarely been more mystified.
Suddenly, though all this must have taken but a moment, Loder burst upon him from somewhere with a "For God's sake don't keep them, or they'll STOP!" "But I can't go on for THAT!" Wayworth cried, in anguish; the sound seemed to him already to have ceased. Loder had hold of him and was shoving him; he resisted and looked round frantically for Violet Grey, who perhaps would tell him the truth.
Her companions gave discernible signs of recognising the passages of comedy; yet Wayworth forgave her even then for being inexpressive. She evidently wished before everything else to be simply sure of what it was all about. He was more surprised even than at the revelation of the scale on which Mr.
The old lady was hushed to awe, or at least to discretion, and Wayworth was happy enough to wait. He had really to wait till they had alighted at Notting Hill, where the elder of his companions went to see that supper had been attended to. "I was better I was better," said Violet Grey, throwing off her cloak in the little drawing-room. "You were perfection.
The manager began to explain why, for so long, he had given no sign; but that was the last thing that interested Wayworth now, and he could never remember afterwards what reasons Mr. Loder had enumerated. He liked, in the whole business of discussion and preparation, even the things he had thought he should probably dislike, and he revelled in those he had thought he should like.
Her charm was always great for Allan Wayworth, and the whole air of her house, which was simply a sort of distillation of herself, so soothing, so beguiling that he always made several false starts before departure.
"What will you do for her if it does?" He looked at Violet Grey's aunt a moment. "Do you say your niece is very proud?" "Too proud for her dreadful profession." "Then she wouldn't wish you to ask me that," Wayworth answered, getting up. When he reached home he was very tired, and for a person to whom it was open to consider that he had scored a success he spent a remarkably dismal day.
"Do you mean she talked to you about Nona?" "She said you thought she was like her. She IS she's exquisite." "She's exquisite," Wayworth repeated. "Do you mean she tried to coach you?" "Oh, no she only said she would be so glad if it would help me to see her. And I felt it did help me.
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