She bounced up from her chair, her large face flaming. "Very well, then, all I've got left to say is, I wish you joy of your choice, and—good afternoon!"
"Good afternoon," said Loveland, rising, and walking towards the door.
"Wait a minute!" exclaimed Miss Moon, stopping him as he turned the handle. "See here, if you please. You're no gentleman if you play the sneak, and tell."
"I've given you my word not to do that," Loveland assured her.
"Mind you keep it! I wash my hands of you," cried the angry woman, and thinking that he might as well take this as his cue for exit, Loveland left the room.
"Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned," he heard her husband quoting with a vicious laugh, before there had been time to shut the door.
Loveland went up to his own room, more than a little troubled. He had learned to like Lillie de Lisle, not only for Bill's sake, but for her own. She was a sweet, bright little creature, a lady by nature, though not by birth or education; and if she had a chance, might even yet—in spite of bad training—become a charming actress. The Moon woman was jealous of the star's youth and prettiness, of course; and now she meant to play her rival a shameful trick, yet he might not warn the poor girl because of that stupid promise he had given.
It was a new thing for Loveland to trouble himself about the affairs of his acquaintances; but he knew too well now what it was like to be deserted by friends, cold-shouldered by the world, not to have learned how to feel for others. He was genuinely uncomfortable about Lillie, but he could only make up his mind to stand by the deposed star whatever happened to her, and to himself. For the present, he did not see what else he could do, bound as he was to silence. But there was one comfort, he consoled himself: a new company could not be formed in a minute. This was Saturday. They would all go on to Bonnerstown next day, no doubt; perhaps Mrs. Jacobus would reconsider the spiteful decision to which her henpecked husband agreed with evident reluctance. In any case, there were a few days in which to plan. Loveland hoped that he might hear from England in another week; and at worst, salaries were payable on Saturdays. He would be the possessor of ten hard earned dollars that night.
Dinner had been at twelve, because of the matinée which would begin at two o'clock. Now it was already after one, and everybody had started for the theatre, except himself, the Jacobuses, and Ed Binney, who was ill with a racking cough, and keeping his room till the last minute.
Loveland went upstairs to see how Ed was feeling, found him ready though coughing hard, and they walked to the Ashville Opera House together.