"You were made for Cherry, my dear," said she. "The part'll fit you as easily as an old glove."
And so it did, but the next night Rich went back to "The Rape of Proserpine" and the piece continued to run until the summer, and then the theatre closed as usual for three months.
"Whatever am I to do Mrs. Egleton?" she cried despairingly. "I suppose I could join Huddy's company again. Huddy I know would be glad enough to have me but——"
"Pray don't be silly," put in the experienced Mrs. Egleton. "It would be lowering yourself. Rich would think you're not worth more than he's been paying you and that's little enough—fifteen shillings a week. Good Lord, how does he imagine a woman of our profession can live on that?"
"It's because of our profession that he parts with so little. He has a notion that we can make it up," rejoined Lavinia sarcastically.
"You never said a truer word than that, my dear. Thank God I've my husband, but you—well you'd better take a husband too or as nearly as you can get to one."
Lavinia shrugged her shoulders disdainfully.
"Why not go to Hampstead? Heaps of money there and plenty of life. Bless my heart alive, with that taking face of yours the men would be after you like flies round a honey-pot."
"I've no fancy for figuring as a honey-pot, thank you."
"Well, I can think of nothing else."