“I don’t know! I don’t know!” A few tears, well chosen, rolled over onto her white cheeks. She brushed them away. “I’m just miserable, that’s all. Last night made me so nervous that I gave a perfectly rotten performance. Just playing opposite her gives me goose-flesh. Something about her chokes me and she seems to feel it—to revel in it. She’s a snake, ’Dolph, and I simply can’t stand her.”
“Seems to me a pretty nice kid.”
The hand resting on his arm traveled its length. “’Dolph,—isn’t it important that I should be happy in my work?”
“Sure!”
“And if she makes me unhappy?”
He gave her hand an understanding squeeze and a slow twinkle appeared in his round eyes. “Ah, come on, Jane! Talk straight to yourself! She’s made too big a hit to suit you. That’s what’s eating you.”
For an instant Jane Goring said nothing. A hard line tightened her mouth, but quickly she dissipated it, replacing it with a deprecatory smile.
“How absurd, ’Dolph!”
“’Course it’s absurd. Don’t try to hog it, Jane! Give the kid a chance!” He dropped back, regarding his cigar contemplatively.
“But I tell you that’s not the reason. I simply can’t [110] ]do anything if she’s in the company. She makes me bristle!”