Brilliana was for the solemn mask.
“Let it be tragedy. I have laughed so much this morning that my mind turns to melancholy.”
Evander looked up at her with his finger on a page.
“Shall we read ‘Romeo and Juliet’?”
“I know that play by root of heart,” Brilliana said.
“Truly, so do I,” said Evander.
Brilliana was silent, pensive, a finger on her lip, considering some project. Then she said, doubtfully:
“You spoke the other day of women players, a thing that seemed to me incredible. Shall we see how it would seem here for us two? Let us while away a wet morning by playing a stage play.”
Evander’s heart leaped.