She had been very frank that last morning on the Mauretania; and many times since, he had recalled every word she had said to him as they leaned on the rail watching the ship draw into the New York dock. Lesley would feel, as he began to, but even more, that everything which had happened "served him right." He could almost hear her pronouncing sentence, smiling, yet in earnest. How she must have laughed at his fallen pride, and the wildly farcical things such merry humourists as Tony Kidd had doubtless put into the papers! He had become a mere figure of fun for America, and therefore, for Lesley Dearmer, who had never been a respecter of persons; and the fear that the Human Flower's Company might play at Louisville had been hot in his mind, until Ed Binney reassured him. Louisville was not for the "likes of them," and they would never get nearer such an important town than they were now. Soon, they would be out of Kentucky, and in Missouri: indeed, the "date" following Ashville, was in the latter state, and Loveland had been advised that his forthcoming address would be Bonnerstown. Only the day before his meeting with Miss Moon on the stairs he had written to Bill Willing, asking him to send on any mail to Bonnerstown, Missouri; and now the lady's mysterious summons gave him an uneasy moment.
He had supposed that his acting was satisfactory, and had worked hard over the learning and rehearsing of his parts, seldom getting to sleep before five in the morning, then dropping off with a MS. in his hand as well as in his head. But what if Miss Moon meant to break the news that "J. J." thought he could not act well enough, and that he must expect his discharge?
Loveland had little appetite for dinner, though the hotel at Ashville was better than at Modunk, and the cooking was good Southern cooking. Immediately after the meal he went upstairs and knocked at the door of Mr. and Mrs. Jacobus's room, with no feeling of strangeness in doing so, because he had learned, since joining Miss de Lisle's company, that for "pros" bedroom was another word for parlour.
The stage manager and his wife were both there, Jacobus smoking, in sulky silence which he broke only with a grunt by way of greeting for the "juvenile lead." But Miss Moon made up in cordiality for her husband's coldness.
"Mr. Jacobus is cross with me," she announced coquettishly, "about you."
"About me?" Loveland repeated, puzzled and vaguely uncomfortable.
"Yes. There's an idea of mine I want to talk to you about, and he says you'll blab it to the others. But I say you won't if you promise you won't. That's so, isn't it?"
"Of course," answered Loveland.
"And you do promise, don't you—and that you won't say a word to a living soul, if I tell you a thing in strict confidence?"
"I promise," Loveland returned imprudently, impressed with the idea that he was to hear some comment on his own acting.