From
time to time she smiled and said: "I live--I live--I live." How
long she stayed he couldn't have told, but when his landlady
blundered in with the lamp Nona Vincent was no longer there. He
rubbed his eyes, but no dream had ever been so intense; and as he
slowly got out of his chair it was with a deep still joy--the joy of
the artist--in the thought of how right he had been, how exactly like
herself he had made her. She had come to show him that. At the end
of five minutes, however, he felt sufficiently mystified to call his
landlady back--he wanted to ask her a question. When the good woman
reappeared the question hung fire an instant; then it shaped itself
as the inquiry:
"Has any lady been here?"
"No, sir--no lady at all."
The woman seemed slightly scandalised. "Not Miss Vincent?"
"Miss Vincent, sir?"
"The young lady of my play, don't you know?"
"Oh, sir, you mean Miss Violet Grey!"
"No I don't, at all. I think I mean Mrs. Alsager."
"There has been no Mrs. Alsager, sir."
"Nor anybody at all like her?"
The woman looked at him as if she wondered what had suddenly taken
him.
Pages:
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72