“Forgive me for having pained you, and I will promise never again to allude to the subject. So you would like to see Ralph Webster? Well, you shall see him to-morrow, and I am truly glad to find you so much better.” And then he smiled kindly and went away.
He felt interested in this forlorn and broken-hearted young woman, who he was sure his friend Webster had saved from some tragic fate; and not the less interested on account of May’s fair face. He therefore wrote to Webster during the day, and told him of the improvement in May’s health, and also of her wish to find some employment.
“Don’t throw cold water on this, my dear fellow,” he added; “it will be the very best thing possible for her, and will give her an interest in life which she has well-nigh lost. Can you call to-morrow afternoon?” And so forth.
Doctor Brentwood’s letter was a great relief to Webster’s mind, and he received another by the same post from Miss Kathleen Weir. This was a highly characteristic epistle.
“Dear Mr. Webster: For the third and last time, unless you come, will you take supper with me this evening; or if suits you better will you call in the afternoon? Wire which. Yours ever sincerely.
“Kathleen Weir.”
Webster read this note with a smile; thought it over, and then decided to call during the afternoon, and he accordingly telegraphed Miss Weir to that effect. And as he drove to the actress’ flat he was wondering if she had any news to tell him, and he found that she had some.
She received him in her usual airy fashion, and she was charmingly dressed in a most becoming tea-gown.
“Well, you have come at last,” she said, holding out her hand as Webster entered her drawing-room.
“Yes,” he answered, taking it, “and I should have come before, but I have been a good deal worried of late.”