Francesca did not answer him at once, but bent her head again. Once or twice she looked up as though she were about to speak.
"It is as I tell you," said Reanda, nodding his head slowly.
Francesca made up her mind, but the scarlet blood rose in her face.
"It is better to be honest and frank," she said. "Is Gloria jealous of me?" She was so much ashamed that she could hardly look at him just then.
"Jealous! She would kill you!" he cried, and there was anger in his voice at the thought. "Do not go to her. Something might happen."
The blush in Francesca's face deepened and then subsided, and she grew very pale again.
"But if she is jealous, she loves you," she said earnestly and anxiously.
He shrugged his high thin shoulders, and the bitter smile came back to his face.
"It is a stage jealousy," he said cruelly. "How could she pass the time without something to divert her? She is always acting."
"But what is she jealous of?" asked Francesca. "How can she be jealous of me? Because you work here? She is free to come if she likes, and to stay all day. I do not understand."