He uttered her name with an accent
that he afterwards regretted--it gave them, as he thought, both away;
and while Loder hustled him before the curtain he heard some one say
"She took her call and disappeared." She had had a call, then--this
was what was most present to the young man as he stood for an instant
in the glare of the footlights, looking blindly at the great vaguely-
peopled horseshoe and greeted with plaudits which now seemed to him
at once louder than he deserved and feebler than he desired. They
sank to rest quickly, but he felt it to be long before he could back
away, before he could, in his turn, seize the manager by the arm and
cry huskily--"Has it really gone--REALLY?"
Mr. Loder looked at him hard and replied after an instant: "The
play's all right!"
Wayworth hung upon his lips. "Then what's all wrong?"
"We must do something to Miss Grey."
"What's the matter with her?"
"She isn't IN it!"
"Do you mean she has failed?"
"Yes, damn it--she has failed."
Wayworth stared. "Then how can the play be all right?"
"Oh, we'll save it--we'll save it.
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