"I am to play Statira to-night."
"Who is Roxana?" He smiled down at her dark prettiness.
"Do you care?" she pouted.
"Not at all."
"'Tis Miss Fenton in an ugly red gown from Paris," she informed him; "a hoyden!"
Rose Lyndwood looked languidly before him. She touched his black velvet sleeve with scented fingers.
"Will you come?" she demanded, her regard full of fire and entreaty.
"To-night?"
"I am not playing to-morrow."