“Ah, I know what I know, my dear,” cried he. “And so I will take my leave at once, lest you should change your mind.”
“I protest, sir,” said she, as he kissed her hand again. “I protest that 't was the thought of the supper decided me.”
He roared with laughter.
So did she when he had left her house.
“What fools these men are!” she cried, throwing herself back on her couch with a very capacious yawn. “What fools! The idea of a poor woman being influenced by the thought of minced chicken in a decision that involves being by their side seems preposterous to them! Oh, if they but knew all that such a woman as I am could tell them!”
She laughed softly—subtly—as certain recollections came to her, for Mrs. Abington was a lady of many recollections.
After a space, she resumed her study of the part of Miss Hardcastle, for which she had been cast by Colman in Dr. Goldsmith's new comedy, but which, the following week, to her everlasting regret, she relinquished in favor of Mrs. Bulkley.
Lee Lewis, who was studying the part of Young Marlow, had accompanied her home after rehearsal. He had, during the previous month, shown himself to be extremely polite in regard to her, for he had walked home with her several times, and more than once he had been seen by her side at Ranelagh and Vauxhall, as well as at the Pantheon in the Oxford Road. People about the theater were saying that the beautiful Mrs. Abington had added to the number of her conquests, and Miss Catley, the most imprudent of all the imprudent ladies in Colman's company, said some very spiteful things regarding her. (It was understood that Miss Catley had angled for Lee Lewis herself, but without success.)
Before Mrs. Abington had been alone for half an hour, her maid entered to tell her that a lady was inquiring for her at the hall door.
“Another of our stage-struck misses, Lucette?” said the actress, alluding to the three visits which she had had during the week from young women who were desirous of obtaining a footing on the stage.