"She IS queer, isn't she?" said Stanley thoughtfully. "But I've told her she'd be free to go on with the career. Fact is, I want her to do it."
Mrs. Brindley's eyes twinkled. "You think it would justify you to your set in marrying her, if she made a great hit?"
Stanley blushed ingenuously. "I'll not deny that has something to do with it," he admitted. "And why not?"
"Why not, indeed?" said she. "But, after she had made the hit, you'd want her to quit the stage and take her place in society. Isn't that so?"
"You ARE a keen one," exclaimed he admiringly. "But I didn't say that to her. And you won't, will you?"
"It's hardly necessary to ask that," said Mrs. Brindley. "Now, suppose— You don't mind my talking about this?"
"What I want," replied he. "I can't talk or think anything but her."
"Now, suppose she shouldn't make a hit. Suppose she should fail—should not develop reliable voice enough?"
Stanley looked frightened. "But she can't fail," he cried with over-energy. "There's no question about her voice."
"I understand," Mrs. Brindley hastened to say. "I was simply making conversation with her as the subject."