ur Gerardy had pretended not to hear. He
breathed loud through his nose, and Page hastened to observe that
anyhow Marion was not on in the next scenes. Then abruptly, and
resuming his normal expression, Monsieur Gerardy said:
"Let us proceed. It advances nothing to lose time. Come. Lady Mary and
Arthur, ready."
The rehearsal continued. Laura, who did not come on during the act,
went back to her chair in the corner of the room.
But the original group had been broken up. Mrs. Cressler was in the
dining-room with the Gretry girl, while Jadwin, Aunt Wess', and
Cressler himself were deep in a discussion of mind-reading and
spiritualism.
As Laura came up, Jadwin detached himself from the others and met her.
"Poor Miss Gretry!" he observed. "Always the square peg in the round
hole. I've sent out for some smelling salts."
It seemed to Laura that the capitalist was especially well-looking on
this particular evening. He never dressed with the "smartness" of
Sheldon Corthell or Landry Court, but in some way she did not expect
that he should. His clothes were not what she was aware were called
"stylish," but she had had enough experience with her own tailor-made
gowns to know that the material was the very best that money could buy.
The apparent absence of any padding in the broad shoulders of the frock
coat he wore, to her mind, more than compensated for the "ready-made"
scarf, and if the white waistcoat was not fashionably cut, she knew
that _she_ had never been able to afford a pique skirt of just that
particular grade.
"Suppose we go into the reception-room," he observed abruptly. "Charlie
bought a new clock last week that's a marvel. You ought to see it."
"No," she answered. "I am quite comfortable here, and I want to see how
Page does in this act."
"I am afraid, Miss Dearborn," he continued, as they found their places,
"that you did not have a very good time Sunday afternoon."
He referred to the Easter festival at his mission school. Laura had
left rather early, alleging neuralgia and a dinner engagement.
"Why, yes I did," she replied. "Only, to tell the truth, my head ached
a little." She was ashamed that she did not altogether delight in her
remembrance of Jadwin on that afternoon. He had "addressed" the school,
with earnestness it was true, but in a strain decidedly conventional.
And the picture he made leading the singing, beating time with the
hymn-book, and between the verses declaring that "he w
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