Part 41 (1/2)
”You say that as Miriam might. Her talent's catching!”
”She's always practising--always saying things over and over to seize the tone. I've her voice in my ears. He wants _her_ not to have any.”
”Not to have any what?”
”Any _nom de theatre_. He wants her to use her own; he likes it so much.
He says it will do so well--you can't better it.”
”He's a capital adviser,” said Sherringham, getting up. ”I'll come back to-morrow.”
”I won't ask you to wait for them--they may be so long,” his hostess returned.
”Will he come back with her?” Peter asked while he smoothed his hat.
”I hope so, at this hour. With my child in the streets I tremble. We don't live in cabs, as you may easily suppose.”
”Did they go on foot?” Sherringham continued.
”Oh yes; they started in high spirits.”
”And is Mr. Basil Dashwood acquainted with Madame Carre?”
”Ah no, but he longed to be introduced to her; he persuaded Miriam to take him. Naturally she wishes to oblige him. She's very nice to him--if he can do anything.”
”Quite right; that's the way!” Peter cheerfully rang out.
”And she also wanted him to see what she can do for the great critic,”
Mrs. Rooth added--”that terrible old woman in the red wig.”
”That's what I should like to see too,” Peter permitted himself to acknowledge.
”Oh she has gone ahead; she's pleased with herself. 'Work, work, work,'
said Madame Carre. Well, she has worked, worked, worked. That's what Mr. Dashwood is pleased with even more than with other things.”
”What do you mean by other things?”
”Oh her genius and her fine appearance.”
”He approves of her fine appearance? I ask because you think he knows what will take.”
”I know why you ask!” Mrs. Rooth bravely mocked. ”He says it will be worth hundreds of thousands to her.”
”That's the sort of thing I like to hear,” Peter returned. ”I'll come in to-morrow,” he repeated.
”And shall you mind if Mr. Dash wood's here?”
”Does he come every day?”