The same incident repeated itself every night she sung, and at every town.
At last she spoke about it to Ashmead, in the vague, suggestive way her sex excels in. “I presume you have observed the people in front.”
“Yes, madam. Two in particular.”
“Could you not advise him to desist?”
“Which of 'em, madam?”
“Mr. Vizard, of course. He is losing his time, and wasting sentiments it is cruel should be wasted.”
Ashmead said he dared not take any liberty with Mr. Vizard.
So the thing went on.
Severne made acquaintance with the manager, and obtained the entre'e behind the scenes. He brought his wife a bouquet every night, and presented it to her with such reverence and grace, that she was obliged to take it and courtesy, or seem rude to the people about.
Then she wrote to Miss Gale and begged her to come if she could.