Lilian was very anxious to know at once all about her sister-in-law’s stage-experiences, and was seized with a strong desire to become an actress herself.
“Don’t you find people off the stage very dull after the nice, amusing people you meet in the theater?” she asked at dinner.
“Oh, no! Some stage-people are dreadful bores, and many are coarse and many commonplace. They are not all alike, you know, any more than people off the stage.”
“But all the actors I have ever met have been so bright and amusing. I know two who were at the Regency, where you acted—Mr. Gibson and Mr. Cooke.”
“Oh, yes; I heard them say they knew you!”
“Don’t you like them? Are they nice in the theater? They are two of the best-bred men I have ever known.”
“They are very nice men, indeed, and very clever actors; I like them both immensely.”
“And Mr. Gibson is so handsome, and does not seem to know it. But he must, for I should think all the women in the theater must be in love with him. Were you not a little in love with him?”
“In love with a beggarly cad of an actor?” shouted Harry, scandalized.
“You don’t know what you are talking about!” said his sister, coolly. “Of course your manners are not those of Mr. Gibson; they are those of his valet. Didn’t you think him very handsome, Annie?”