"I certainly have never acted in my life," begins Monica; "but——"
Mrs. Bohun interrupts her.
"We are a hopelessly benighted lot," she says, making Ryde a present of a beautiful smile. "We are sadly behind the world,—rococo"—shrugging her shoulders pathetically—"to the last degree. You, Mr. Ryde, have opened up to us possibilities never dreamt of before; touches of civilization hitherto unknown."
"I should think in your case a very little tuition would be sufficient," says Ryde, with such kindly encouragement in his tone that Ronayne, who is at Olga's feet, collapses, and from being abnormally grave breaks into riotous laughter.
"You must teach us stage effects,—is that the proper term?—and correct us when we betray too crass an ignorance, and—above all things, Mr. Ryde," with an arch glance, "you must promise not to lose your temper over the gaucheries of your Dolly Varden."
"Whose Dolly Varden?" asks Desmond, coming up at this instant laden with cups of tea.
"Mr. Ryde's."
"He is to be Hugh to Miss Beresford's Dolly," says Ronayne.
"Yes, isn't it good of Monica? she has consented to take the part," says Olga, who is really grateful to her for having helped her out of her difficulty.
"Have you?" says Desmond, turning upon Monica with dilated eyes.