He consented sulkily; she had a hope that the romantic emphasis Reben had commanded and the final embrace would fail so badly that he would not insist on their retention. She did not want Bret to see the experiment. But there was no denying that warmth helped the play immensely. Sheila’s increased success distressed her. Her marriage had tied all her ambitions into such a snarl that she could be true neither to Bret nor to Reben and least of all to herself.
Reben was jubilant. “What d’I tell you? That’s what they pay for; a lot of heart-throbs and one or two big punches. We’ll get ’em yet. Will you have a bite of supper with us to-night?”
“Thanks ever so much,” said Sheila. “I have an engagement with—friends.”
She simply had not the courage to use the singular.
Reben laughed: “So long as it’s not just one. By the by, where were you all day? I tried all afternoon to get you at the hotel. I wanted to take you out for a little fresh air.”
“That’s awfully nice of you, but I got the air. I—I was motoring.”
“With friendzz?” he asked, peculiarly.
“Naturally not with enemies.”
She thought that rather quick work. But he gave her a suspicious look.
“Remember, Sheila—your picture is pasted all over town. These small cities are gossip-factories. Be careful. Remember the old saying, if you can’t be good, be careful.”