And there, in fact, she was.
Puppa was there, too, although less preoccupied with Amy and Alfred than with the pair of Hessian boots that he had lent for the performance. So long as they were on the stage, he never took his eyes off them.
“Is everyone here?” I asked Nancy.
“Mrs. Harter is coming. Bill went to fetch her.”
She sighed.
“It is all very queer, don’t you think—I mean the way in which they go about together. Of course, I’m dreadfully sorry for Bill. I think he’s terribly in love with her.”
I was inclined to think so, too, and I found it quite impossible not to watch them both when they arrived together.
It was not the first time that Mrs. Harter had come to a rehearsal—it might have been the second, or at most the third.
Bill took her straight up to Mary Ambrey after she had received Claire’s very brief greeting and had bowed stiffly in reply to mine.
“Will you come into the green room, Mrs. Harter? They’re all getting ready.”