Part 83 (1/2)
”Women? Men?”
”Men.”
”Sennier?”
She shook her head.
”Max Elliot?”
”No. One is--Alston Lake.”
”Alston? But why isn't he up here, then?”
”He has brought someone with him.”
”Whom?”
”Jacob Crayford.”
”Crayford here? What has he come here for?”
”He's taking a holiday motoring.”
”But to come to Algiers in summer!”
”He goes everywhere, and can't choose his season. He's far too busy.”
”To be sure. Has he been to see you?”
”Yes; he dined here yesterday and stayed till past midnight. He wants to see you. I meant to telegraph to you almost directly.”
”Wants to see me?”
”Yes. Claude, last night I read the libretto of the opera to him and Alston.”
He was silent. It was dark in the court. She could not see his face clearly enough to know whether he was pleased or displeased.
”Do you mind?”
”Why should I?”
”I think you sound as if you minded.”
”Well? What did Crayford think of it?”
”He said, 'It's the best libretto since _Carmen_.'”
”It is a good libretto.”
”He was enthusiastic. Claude”--she put her hand on his arm--”he wants to hear your music.”