“I shall be old very soon if it isn’t!” Mrs. Alsager cried. “I know one or two of them,” she mused.
“Do you mean you would speak to them?”
“The thing is to get them to read it. I could do that.”
“That’s the utmost I ask. But it’s even for that I shall have to wait.”
She looked at him with kind sisterly eyes. “You sha’n’t wait.”
“Ah, you dear lady!” Wayworth murmured.
“That is you may, but I won’t! Will you leave me your copy?” she went on, turning the pages again.
“Certainly; I have another.” Standing near him she read to herself a passage here and there; then, in her sweet voice, she read some of them out. “Oh, if you were only an actress!” the young man exclaimed.
“That’s the last thing I am. There’s no comedy in me!”
She had never appeared to Wayworth so much his good genius. “Is there any tragedy?” he asked, with the levity of complete confidence.