She drew back behind the curtains. The orchestra was playing—it was between the acts.
“Gwendoline!” he said, “I thank you!”
“What do you mean?” and her frightened eyes met his.
“Draw your chair back.”
She did so.
“My darling! I thank you in——Cliquot’s name!”
What had he said that the verbenas on her neck looked so pale? At that moment there was a slight noise from behind the stage, and in a little while the manager stepped out in front of the curtain and addressed the audience as follows:
“I crave your indulgence for a few moments, as one of the actresses has met with a slight accident. It will delay matters but a short time.”
“Mamma,” said Gwendoline, “I should like to go home.”
“Are you not well?”