“Everything went,” he mused, “—scenery, properties—even my glorious prima donna—”
“What?” cried Flora in alarm. “Miss Valentine? She—she wasn’t drowned?”
“Oh, no,” he laughed. “Merely gobbled up by one of the big bugs, that’s all.”
She showed him, nevertheless, a face full of sympathetic despair. “It’s the most outrageous thing I ever heard of!”
But it all seemed to matter so little to him now. He seized her hands and gave her a look of such delightful impetuosity that she couldn’t help looking down at her plate.
“Don’t you see?” he cried in a loud gay voice. “It’s brought us to the way out!”
“Has it?” she asked softly.
“There’s a chance, if we hold hands tight and jump, of getting off the merry-go-round at last!”
“Oh—tell me about it!” she begged, her face brimming with eagerness.