Craven shrank inwardly as he heard Miss Van Tuyn say “Adela,” but he only nodded and tried to return adequately the expression in her eyes. Then he looked across the theatre, and saw Mrs. Ackroyde speaking to Lady Wrackley. After a moment they both gazed at him, and, seeing his eyes fixed on her, Lady Wrackley let go her smile at him and made a little gesture with her hand.
“She knows too—damn her!” thought Craven, impolitely.
He set his teeth.
“They know everything, these women! It’s useless to try to have the smallest secret from them!”
And then he said to himself what so many have said:
“What does it matter what they know, what they think, what they say? I don’t care!”
But he did care. He hated their knowing of his friendship with Lady Sellingworth, and it seemed to him that they were scattering dust all over the dew of his feeling.
The second act of the play was more interesting than the first, but, as Miss Van Tuyn said, the whole thing was rather a clever character study than a solidly constructed and elaborately worked out play. It was the fascination of Moscovitch which held the audience tight and which brought thunders of applause when the curtain fell.
“If that man acted in French he could have enormous success in Paris,” said Miss Van Tuyn. “You have chosen well,” she added, turning to Braybrooke. “You have introduced us to a great temperament.”
Braybrooke was delighted, and still more delighted when Lady Sellingworth and Craven both said that it was the best acting they had seen in London for years.