“I say, Cic’—” he said, “why did you change the scene? It might have spoiled everything if Madame wasn’t such a genius. Why did you say that?”
“Why,” said Ciccio, answering Louis’ French in Italian, “I am tired of being dead, you see.”
Madame and Max heard in silence.
When Alvina had played God Save the King she went round behind the stage. But Ciccio and Geoffrey had already packed up the property, and left. Madame was talking to James Houghton. Louis and Max were busy together. Mr. May came to Alvina.
“Well,” he said. “That closes another week. I think we’ve done very well, in face of difficulties, don’t you?”
“Wonderfully,” she said.
But poor Mr. May spoke and looked pathetically. He seemed to feel forlorn. Alvina was not attending to him. Her eye was roving. She took no notice of him.
Madame came up.
“Well, Miss Houghton,” she said, “time to say good-bye, I suppose.”
“How do you feel after dancing?” asked Alvina.