The Barton Theatre was a properly conducted one, and none but those who had business there were permitted behind the scenes; but Doris had to pass through a small crowd of actors and supernumeraries and carpenters, and she felt rather than saw the curious glances bent upon her.
But instantly Jeffrey was by her side.
“It has gone well, so far,” he said. “Mr. Brown was right; the house is in good humor, notwithstanding the heat and that it is packed. You played well, Mr. Garland,” he said to the Romeo, who came striding up and bowed to Doris.
“Did I? Thanks. Not nearly so well as I shall do when I have Juliet to play to. May I, without offense, say that you are looking your part most beautifully, Miss Marlowe?”
Doris inclined her head with a smile.
“Romeo should pay compliments, Mr. Garland, and that is a very pretty one. But I want to do more than look my part!”
“Don’t be afraid,” said the young fellow, gallantly and seriously. “I haven’t the slightest fear of the result. It will be a big hit; I have said so all along.”
“And you should know!” said Doris. “I wish I felt as sure.”
“Your cue!” said Jeffrey in a solemn voice, as he touched her arm warningly.
She started slightly, then with the light, careless gait of a light-hearted, careless girl, who has no forecast of the doom hanging over her, she went upon the stage.