It might be a very good thing, but when he
had committed it to the theatrical limbo indiscriminating fate took
no account of the difference. He was at last able to leave England
for three or four months; he went to Germany to pay a visit long
deferred to his mother and sisters.
Shortly before the time he had fixed for his return he received from
Mrs. Alsager a telegram consisting of the words: "Loder wishes see
you--putting Nona instant rehearsal." He spent the few hours before
his departure in kissing his mother and sisters, who knew enough
about Mrs. Alsager to judge it lucky this respectable married lady
was not there--a relief, however, accompanied with speculative
glances at London and the morrow. Loder, as our young man was aware,
meant the new "Renaissance," but though he reached home in the
evening it was not to this convenient modern theatre that Wayworth
first proceeded. He spent a late hour with Mrs. Alsager, an hour
that throbbed with calculation. She told him that Mr. Loder was
charming, he had simply taken up the play in its turn; he had hopes
of it, moreover, that on the part of a professional pessimist might
almost be qualified as ecstatic.
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