At length Sheila emerged with no trace of the actress about her, just a neat little, tight little armful of wife.
As they were about to turn out at the stage door they saw Reben lingering in the wings. He beckoned to Sheila and called her by name. She moved toward him, not because he was her boss, but because he did not know that he was not. She rejoiced to feel that she had changed masters. Her husband, already the protector and champion, motioned her back and went to Reben in her stead.
“I wanted Miss Kemble,” Reben said, very coldly.
To which Bret retorted, calmly, “Mrs. Winfield has decided to resign from your company.”
Reben had fought himself to a state of self-control. He had resolved to leave Sheila and Bret to settle their own feud. He would observe a strict neutrality. His business was to keep the company together and at work. The word “resign” alarmed him anew.
“Resign!” he gasped. “When?”
“To-night.”
“Nonsense! She plays to-morrow.”
“She cannot play to-morrow.”
“She is ill? I don’t wonder, after such scenes. Her understudy might get through to-morrow night, but after that she must appear.”