“Don’t be too cocksure I’ll marry you. I still would love to be an actress.”
“My word, Marion,” said he. “Whatever put such a notion in your head? I wish you’d forget all about the rotten stage. Actresses are an immoral lot.”
“Can’t one be immoral without being an actress?” I asked meekly.
“We won’t discuss that,” said Reggie, a bit testily. “Let’s drop the dirty subject.”
When he was going that night, and after he had kissed me good-bye several times in the dark hall, he said—but as if speaking to himself:
“Gad! but the governor’s going to be purple over this.”
The “governor” was his father.
XII
“The summer days are coming
The blossoms deck the bough,
The bees are gaily humming
And the birds are singing now.”
I was singing and thumping on our old cracked piano. Ada said: