As a matter of fact, nothing of the sort had happened. Matthias was absorbed in negotiations concerning an old play which had caught the fancy of the manager. Joan, though he knew her at sight, was now too inconsiderable a figure in his world for him to recall, off-hand, that he had ever made her a present.
Nevertheless the girl coloured furiously, and blushed again under the inquisitive stare of her companion.
"Who's that?"
"Who?" Joan muttered sullenly.
"The fellow who bowed to you just now."
"Oh, that?" Joan made an unconvincing effort at speaking casually: "A man named Matthias—a playwright, I believe."
"Oh," said the other girl quietly. "Never done anything much, has he?"
"I don't know."
"You don't know him very well?"
There was a touch of irony in the question that struck sparks from Joan's temper.