She stopped. She was on the point of plunging into her history and there was no necessity for doing this. She had not said a word to Lancelot Vane about herself and she did not intend to do so. He must think what he pleased about the adventure which had brought them together. He must have seen her leap from Dorrimore's carriage—nay, he may have caught sight of Dorrimore himself. Then there was the ruffian of a coachman who had pursued her. The reason of the fellow's anxiety to capture her must have puzzled Vane. Well, it must continue to puzzle him.
"Mr. Gay your friend?" returned Vane with a pang of envy. "Ah, then, you're indeed fortunate. I—you've been such a benefactor to me, madam, that I hesitate to ask another favour of you."
All familiarity had fled from him. He seemed to be no longer on an equality with her. He was diffident, he was respectful. If this girl was a friend of Mr. Gay the distinguished poet and dramatist whose latest work, "The Fables," was being talked about at Button's, at Wills', at every coffee-house where the wits gathered, she must be somebody in the world of fashion and letters. Perhaps she was an actress. She had the assured manner of one, he thought.
"What is it you want? If it's anything in my power I'd like to help you," said Lavinia with an air of gracious condescension. The young man's sudden deference amused her highly. It also pleased her.
"Thank you," he exclaimed eagerly. "I would ask you if you have sufficient acquaintance to show him my play? I'm sure he would refuse you nothing. Nobody could."
"Oh, this is very sad," said Lavinia shaking her head. "I'm afraid, Mr. Vane, you're trying to bribe me with flattery. I warn you it will be of no avail. All the same I'll take your play to Mr. Gay if you care to trust it to me."
"Trust, madam, I'd trust you with anything."
"You shouldn't be so ready to believe in people you know nothing of. But—where's this play of yours? May I look at it?"
"It would be the greatest honour you could confer upon me. I would dearly love to have your opinion," he cried, his face flushing.
"My opinion isn't worth a button, but all the same the play would interest me I'm sure."