“Yes. Miss D’Orsay is too ill. Besides, she cannot speak above a whisper. Will you take her place with me?”
The girl looked at him with wide open startled eyes.
“You ask me to act in the ‘Coliseum’?” she gasped. “Merciful Heaven! Am I dreaming?”
“YOU ASK ME TO ACT IN THE ‘COLISEUM’?” SHE GASPED.
“No. Listen. I intend to put on ‘Much Ado About Nothing’ in a fortnight, and after you went through that scene with me, I meant you to be my Beatrice. Ophelia is not a difficult part except for the mad scene. Your voice is so exceptionally fine that the songs will be a great feature. If you know the old music you know mine. Nothing is new. Will you do it? You are word perfect, of course? Gray Leighton was so wrapped up in ‘Hamlet,’ that you must have often rehearsed with him.”
“Yes. I am word perfect,” said Muriel, slowly. “I have done it many times, and I know the music; but——”
She raised her eyes piteously to his face.
“Will you do it as a favour to me?”
“Can I face the audience, Mr. Keene? That is my only fear.”