Renfrew turned paler than she was.
“Ah!” she cried. “You go white?”
“No, no,” he murmured. “But—but I can't believe it.”
“I will marry you when you like, to-morrow, whenever you can get a licence.”
“Oh, Claire!”
Suddenly she got up.
“Take me away from here,” she said. “From this heat and noise. Take me to some place where it is wild and desolate. I want to be in starlight, with people who know nothing of me, and my trumpery talent. O God, Desmond, you don't know how a woman can get to hate being famous! I should like to act to-night to a circle of savages who had never heard of me and of my glory.”
“Curtain's up!” sang a shrill voice outside.
Claire picked up the dagger.
“Well?” she said. “Shall it be—?”