“I’m so glad you’re back, Miss Goring.” She spoke with a note of sincerity unmistakable, and in her wide eyes was a look of pleading as of unspoken apology for what she had done. “I just had to come and tell you.”
“Thank you,” Goring replied and for her life could not say more. Her hatred was a living, searing thing.
The coup she had made in absenting herself accomplished its end. Gloria Cromwell was withdrawn from the cast—to be featured by Cleeburg in a new production!
Anxiously Goring waited for some reference to the [118] ]turn events had taken. None came, not even when the girl left the company. Little ’Dolph seemed to be full of the joy of living these days—cigar more active than ever, smile more genial, himself more generous to the down-and-outers and brimful of plans. In the weeks that followed he never spoke of their misunderstanding. Evidently his admiration had not in any way decreased. She had chosen, she concluded, the psychological moment to gain her freedom.
When news came that it was consummated the weight of uncertainty lifted. She felt buoyant, with a clear course to steer ahead. Not that she was at all eager to marry her manager. But since it was the one sure way to secure her future, it must be gone through.
She will always have reason to remember the bright spring day when she dropped into his office to break the news. For some time he had known Bob was suing.
“Glad to hear it,” he remarked when she told him everything was settled. Then he swung round in his chair and gazed out of the window at a pair of fleecy, fluttering clouds in the very blue heavens.
“Well, I took your advice, Jane,” he added casually.
“What advice?”
“Remember telling me once to make that Cromwell girl change her name? I went ahead and did it.”