Yvonne made a slight motion as if to rise and escape. Only Rex saw it. Yes, one more: Ruth saw it.
“Mademoiselle has studied seriously since I had the honor—”
“Oui, Monsieur.”
Her faint voice and timid look were more than Ruth could bear. She leaned forward so as to shield the girl as much as possible, and entered into the lively talk at the other end of the table.
Rex spoke again: “Mademoiselle is quite strong, I trust—the stage—Sugar? Allow me!—As I was saying, the stage is a calling which requires a good constitution.” No answer.
“But pardon. If you are not strong, how can you expect to succeed in your career?” persisted Rex. His eyes rested on one frail wrist in its black sleeve. The sight filled him with anger.
“I would make my debut if I knew it would kill me.” She spoke at last, low but clearly.
“But why? Mon Dieu!”
“Madame has set her heart on it. She thinks I shall do her credit. She has been good to me, so good!” The sad voice fainted and sank away.
“One is good to one’s pupils when they are going to bring one fame,” said Rex bitterly.