It seemed rather sad she should be walking-on in a crowd to earn three shillings and sixpence. And with this reflection there came to Wynne an idea—one of the first that did not actually concern himself. It smote him gloriously, and sent a pulsation of delight throbbing through his veins. But all he said was:
“You will come to the rooms after the play?”
She hesitated. “I said I would not.”
“But it’s your birthday.”
“Then, if I shan’t disturb you.”
“Even if you do, I want you to come.”
“Very well. Will you wait for me?”
“No. Follow me round. I’ve something to do first. Here, take a key and keep it if you will. I give you the freedom of the rooms.”
“I wish you’d wait,” she said.
“Sorry,” he replied, shaking his head.