"A little while. If she really wishes to be at the rehearsal—"
"But we know she wishes it!"
"Well, then, she will suggest coming with you, or she may write to Crayford. I'm not going to do anything more about it."
His face was stern, grim.
"Now I'll shut the window," he added, "or you'll catch cold in that low dress."
He was moving to the window when she caught at his hand and detained him.
"Would you care if I did? Would you care if I were ill?"
"Of course I should."
"Would you care if I—"
She did not finish the sentence, but still held his hand closely in hers. In her hand-grasp Claude felt jealousy, warm, fiery, a thing almost strangely vital.