“Jimmy,” they hinted. “Now there’s a fellow you ought to have married, instead of your ...”
“Not a word against my husband,” she said, like a good and devoted little wife. “I won’t have him insulted.”
That did not prevent her from laughing with her friends. She felt a need of forgetting, or she would have died of boredom, with a husband like that. She was heavy at heart, sometimes. She was a woman, not an icicle. She felt herself made for love. She was flesh and blood, like Jimmy. She would have liked some one to console her, to talk softly to her, as Glass-Eye Maud used to do. There were plenty willing to play the part of Glass-Eye Maud, no doubt: the female-impersonator, for instance, with the green eyes. Oh, she would have liked to be hugged, kissed full on the mouth, or else stroked and petted gently! No home, no happiness; marriage without love; that was her life henceforth. These stage friendships were a relief.
The Bambinis romped with her. She loved their gaiety, liked to touch their sturdy little limbs. That evening, Lily, who was ready for her performance early, was having fun with them. Dressed in her pink tights, she looked like a blithe nymph playing with rollicking cupids.
“What a charming group!” said a voice behind her. “If I were a painter, Lily, I would do you like that!”
It was Jimmy, who had come to see her on the stage, as he had promised.
“Am I spoiling your game?” he asked. “It’s so pretty! It makes me want to kiss the lot of you!”
“Well, booby!” said Lily, all excited and laughing. “Why don’t you? You daren’t!”
“I daren’t! I’ll show you whether I dare ... and ... I’m stronger than I look!”
And thereupon he caught hold of Lily and lifted her like a feather—Lily, all taken aback, had not time to say “Oof!” so great was her surprise—and Jimmy crossed the whole stage with Lily in his arms, shouting to the manager: