“This isn’t a Patriot matter. It is private.”
“Pshaw!” exclaimed Banneker in disgust. “After all, it doesn’t matter. You’ll have your trouble for your pains,” he prophesied, and returned to phone Betty Raleigh.
What had become of Banneker, Betty’s gay and pure-toned voice demanded over the wire. Had he eschewed the theater and all its works for good? Too busy? Was that a reason also for eschewing his friends? He’d never meant to do that? Let him prove it then by coming up to see her.... Yes; at once. Something special to be talked over.
It was a genuine surprise to Banneker to find that he had not seen the actress for nearly two months. Certainly he had not specially missed her, yet it was keenly pleasurable to be brought into contact again with that restless, vital, outgiving personality. She looked tired and a little dispirited and—for she was of that rare type in which weariness does not dim, but rather qualifies and differentiates its beauty—quite as lovely as he had ever seen her. The query which gave him his clue to her special and immediate interest was:
“Why is Haslett leaving The Patriot?” Haslett was the Chicago critic transplanted to take Gurney’s place.
“Is he? I didn’t know. You ought not to mourn his loss, Betty.”
“But I do. At least, I’m afraid I’m going to. Do you know who the new critic is?”
“No. Do you? And how do you? Oh, I suppose I ought to understand that, though,” he added, annoyed that so important a change should have been kept secret from him.
With characteristic directness she replied, “You mean Tertius Marrineal?”
“Naturally.”