THE PRINCIPAL BOY. 253
sneering intonation. " Let me introduce you — Mr. Redhill, Mr. Spanner, you have heard of Mr. Spanner, the celebrated author and stage-manager? "
The celebrated author and stage-manager half rose in his easy-chair, startled, and not over-pleased. The pale-faced rival visitor, half hidden in the curtains, inclined his head stiffly, then moved towards the door.
" Oh, no, don't run away like that, without a cup of tea, in this bitter weather. Mr. Spanner won't mind talking business before you, will you, George? Such a dear old friend, you know."
It was a merry tea-party. Lucy rattled away bewitchingly, overpowering Mr. Spanner like an embodied brandy and soda. The slang of the green room and the sporting papers rolled musically off her tongue, grating on Frank's ear like the scraping of slate pencils. He had not insight enough to divine that she was accentuating her vulgar acquirements to torture him. Spanner went at last — for the Oriental boards claimed him — leaving behind him as nearly definite a promise of the part as a stage-manager can ever bring him- self to utter. Lucy accompanied him downstairs. When she returned, Frank was still sitting as she had left him — one hand playing with the spoon in his cup, the rest of the body lethargic, immobile. She bent over him tenderly.
" Frank ! " she whispered.
He shivered and looked up at the lovely face, daubed with rouge and pencilled at the eyebrows with black — as for the edification of the distant "gods." He lowered his eyes again, and said slowly : " Lucy, I have come back to marry you. What date will be most convenient to you?"
" You want to marry me," she echoed in low tones. " All the same ! " A strange wonderful light came into her eyes. The big lashes were threaded with glistening tears.
