“We will place them,” he said, “side by side.”
CHAPTER X
Matravers’ luncheon party marked the termination for some time of any confidential intercourse between Berenice and himself. Every moment of her time was claimed by Fergusson, who, in his anxiety to produce a play from which he hoped so much before the wane of the season, gave no one any rest, and worked himself almost into a fever. There were two full rehearsals a day, and many private ones at her rooms. Matravers calling there now and then found Fergusson always in possession, and by degrees gave it up in despair. He had a horror of interfering in any way, even of being asked for his advice concerning the practical reproduction of his work. Fergusson’s invitations to the rehearsals at the theatre he rejected absolutely. As the time grew shorter, Berenice became pale and almost haggard with the unceasing work which Fergusson’s anxiety imposed upon her. One night she sent for Matravers, and hastening to her rooms, he found her for the first time alone.
“Do you know that man is driving me slowly mad?”
“I have sent Mr. Fergusson home,” she exclaimed, welcoming him with outstretched hands, but making no effort to rise from her easy chair. “Do you know that man is driving me slowly mad? I want you to interfere.”
“What can I do?” he said.