“And what then?”
“Then—then Hope was a good breakfast but a bad supper, you know. But shall I tell you all? Yes, yes, I will.”
She told him of Mrs. Jupe, and of the deception she had practised upon her people, and he turned his head that he might not see her tears. She told him of the “Three Graces,” and of the stage manager—she called him the “stage damager”—and then she turned her head that she might hide her shame. She told him of Josephs, the bogus agent, and his face grew hard and his brown eyes looked black.
“And where did you say his place was?” he asked in a voice that vibrated and broke.
“I didn't say,” she answered with a laugh and a tear.
She told him of Aggie, and of the foreign clubs, and of Koenig, and of the dinner party at the Home Secretary's, and then she skipped a step and cried:
“Ding, dong, dended,
My tale's ended.”
“And was it there you met Mr. Drake again?”
She replied with a nod.
“Never having seen him in the meantime?”