‘No, but she is the ghost of a woman I once saw.’
Another pause, then Crieff spoke again.
‘I tell you what, the best thing you can do is to make her acquaintance. Shall I ask Abrahams to introduce you?’
To his friend’s surprise, Sutherland turned upon him a look of the uttermost consternation, and then said in a low voice—
‘Not yet.’
CHAPTER XX.—A PAINTER’S MODEL.
While the public were busy discussing the merits and demerits of the star which had shone forth so suddenly upon the theatrical horizon, the lady herself was sitting in her dressing-room, apparently indifferent to all that passed or was likely to come. Her theatrical splendour had been cast off, and, enveloped now in a plain dark dress, she sat with dishevelled hair and pale cheeks, gazing dreamily at her own reflection in a mirror. Her maid, who was busily engaged in folding a delicate robe, was suddenly interrupted in her work by a knock at the door.
She opened it and admitted White. He walked over to the dreamy girl, put his arm round her shoulders, and kissed her fondly.