Miss Burton looked out of the window with a far-away look. Then she came to me and took both my hands in hers.
"Little girl, why don't you persuade him to give up the stage and go back to the law?"
"Because he does not like the law, and because he has a great career as an actor ahead of him," I retorted, feeling myself on the verge of tears.
After Miss Burton had donned her hat and gloves, and stood with her hand on the door-knob, she spoke again:
"I'll see Tom to-morrow, and have him set you right with that old beast."
"Set me right!"
"Yes, for not showing up at the Academy. I'll say you got in a trolley jam, and when you arrived there they had gone. You can show up bright and early to-morrow—don't you intend to take the engagement?"
"Not if I never got another engagement in my life!" I declared, with a wave of disgust passing over me.
Miss Burton drew me into her arms and kissed me impulsively: "Stick to that, girlie, and God bless you!" and she rushed off....
I didn't sleep much that night. Early the next morning came a telegram from Will, saying he expected to be home on Sunday. His Company was to "lay off" and rehearse two weeks, preparatory to "the assault" on Broadway, as he expressed it. The knowledge that I should soon feel his arms around me acted like a tonic. My resentment against Miss Burton gave way to pity. Why were not all husbands and wives as much in love with each other as were Will and I?