"I shall be pleased to meet Miss Killigrew," which was a white one. Hillard would have paid court to a laundress rather than offend Merrihew.
And promptly at eleven he went up to the card-room and dragged Merrihew away. Merrihew gave up his chair reluctantly. He was winning. He would have been just as reluctant, however, had he been losing. The amateur gambler never wants to stop.
On the way to the Killigrew apartment, Merrihew's moods varied. At one moment he was on the heights, at the next in the depths. He simply could not live without Kitty. Perhaps if this trip abroad turned out badly she might change her mind. Seven thousand could be made to muster. Twice Hillard came very near making his friend a confidant of his own affair; but he realized that, while Merrihew was to be trusted in all things, it was not yet time.
He found a pleasing and diverting company. There was Mère Killigrew, a quaint little old lady who deplored her daughter's occupation but admitted that without her success, Heaven only knew how they would have got along. There was the genial Thomas O'Mally, a low-comedian of genuine ability, whom Hillard knew casually; Smith, a light-comedian; and Worth, a moderately successful barytone to whom Hillard took one of those instant and unaccountable dislikes. These three and Kitty were going abroad. And there were several members of The Modern Maid company, which went on tour the following Monday.
Kitty fancied Hillard from the start; and he on his side found her well educated, witty and unaffected. She was even prettier than her photograph. Merrihew's face beamed upon them both, in a kind of benediction. He had known all along that once Jack saw Kitty, he would become a good ally in fighting down her objections.
"Think of singing in Italy!" cried Kitty. "Isn't it just wonderful?"
"And has Merrihew told you to get a return ticket before you sail?" with half a jest.
"Don't you think it will be successful?" a shade of disappointment. "There will be thousands of lonesome Americans over there. Out of patriotism, if for nothing else, they ought to come and see us."
"They certainly ought to. But I'm an old killjoy."
"No, no; go on and tell me all your doubts. You have been over there so many times."