“Not at all. Believe me, this—this bright stuff is entirely misplaced.”
So she came on again, and this time resembled a woman torn by conscience after rifling a church of its plate.
“And now you go to the opposite extreme—you will have no emotions left for the big moment in the last act, if the opening of a door causes you so much distress.”
When the ordeal was over, Mornice was a trifle piqued.
“I don’t think he ought to have gone for me like that before the company, Ron—do you?”
But Ronald Knight was an honest lad, and answered:
“After all, there was sound stuff in what he said.”
A reply which put him in prompt disfavour for a period of twenty-six hours, at the end of which time they met, by a kind of mutual magnetism, and kissed each other with enthusiasm in the dressing-room corridor.
“You are sorry for what you said?”
“I am sorry it offended you, but I think it is up to us to do what the old chap wants. After all, he’s taking a big risk.”