Now Aubrey was standing in the shadow only a few feet away from her. He was always particularly quiet when he was not remarkably noisy, and, having nobody to talk to at the moment, he had been still as a statue, and had heard every word of this short colloquy, and noticed the tone of Miss Langton’s exclamation: and he was nettled by it. For he had made up his mind that she was decidedly the most attractive of the ladies of the company, and had resolved to pay her the compliment of devoting his attention to her during the tour.
But, after this unconsciously administered rebuff, he had to resort to the other alternative—of basking in the more easily won smiles of the leading lady, Miss Muriel West. All that Annie could see of this lady in the dim light on the stage was that she was very handsome, with great, winning, velvety brown eyes shaded by long, black lashes, and that she was very badly dressed, apparently in odds and ends from her stage wardrobe.
They were rehearsing “She Stoops to Conquer,” and Miss West played Miss Hardcastle, while Annie herself was Miss Neville. Annie discovered in the course of the morning that Miss West had a sweet, rich voice and a kindly manner, an unrefined accent, and a rather heavy touch in comedy. During the succeeding rehearsals she further discovered that Miss West was good-humored and amusing, and that she already exerted a strong fascination over most of the men of the company; Aubrey Cooke, foremost as usual where a charming woman was concerned, being absent from her side only when he was wanted on the stage for his part of Tony Lumpkin.
The rest of the women were uninteresting. There was a common but clever girl of about her own age who played old women; she called herself “Lola Montrose,” but did not look like it, and was dressed in clothes which would have been neat and appropriate if she had not tried to “smarten herself up a bit” with large bunches of cheap but brilliant artificial flowers. And there was a well-born and well-educated girl who had gone on the stage against the wishes of her friends, and who stayed on it against the wishes of the audience; she played chamber-maids; but, though she could make witty speeches of her own off the stage, she always failed to extract the wit from any speech she had to make on it. And there was also a curiously incapable girl who was the manager’s niece.
On the day of the last rehearsal, before the tour began, Aubrey Cooke followed Annie to a corner of the stage, where she was standing quietly, as usual, rather apart from the rest.
“I beg your pardon,” said he shyly—Aubrey was very shy sometimes—“I hope you won’t think what I am going to say impertinent; but I couldn’t help overhearing part of your conversation with Miss West this morning about—about your living together.”
“Oh, yes! She was suggesting that we should lodge together, as it is so much cheaper than living apart. And she knows all about touring, and I know nothing at all about it. I thought it was very kind of her.”
“She meant to be kind, I have no doubt,” mumbled Aubrey. “But I don’t think arrangements of that sort ever answer, unless people know all about one another; and, if you have not settled anything, I would strongly advise you to try lodging for a week by yourself first; and then, of course, after that you would know all about everybody, and be able to make arrangements with any lady you liked. I hope you will forgive my interference; I could not help seeing that, as you say, you know nothing at all about touring yet.”
Annie had scarcely time to thank him for his advice before he had raised his hat and left her. Aubrey Cooke was a gentleman, and, in spite of her apparent prejudice against him, he felt sympathy with the forlorn little lady. When Annie left the theater that morning, Miss West was coming out at the same time, and for the first time Annie saw her complexion by daylight; and the force of Aubrey Cooke’s advice struck Miss Langton at once, for the pink and white and black of the leading lady’s beauty showed a difference of tastes between them which was more than skin-deep.