the cloak a little coldly.

"You're offended. Pray forgive me if I've done anything wrong."

"Not to me. Perhaps to yourself. But I ought not to say ... no, what you
do is nothing to me."

"Do you really mean that?"

"Why not? You know it as well as I do--may be better."

"Indeed, I don't. Forgive me if I've allowed myself to think that I was
of some interest to you. Of course I was foolish to have such fancies.
Still, you've been so kind.... I hardly like to ask you if you have seen
Mr. Gay ... and ... and ... my tragedy...."

Vane could not conceal his agitation. Lavinia took pity on him and her
manner softened in that subtle inexplicable way which women have.

"Yes, I've seen him and I gave him your play."

"Ah, I can never thank you sufficiently. And what did he say?"

"He put the play in his pocket and promised to read it. He could not do
any more, could he?" Lavinia quickly added seeing disappointment written
in the young dramatist's face.

"No, indeed. But did he give hopes that he would speak to Mr. Rich at
the Duke's Theatre or to Mr. Cibber at Drury Lane?"

"I don't think he did. I can't remember. He told me he was himself
writing a play--an opera--but he was not sanguine he should get it
performed."

"An opera? It is a waste of time. Operas are written by foreigners and
the music and the singers are foreign too. What do the English care
about operas written in their own tongue? It's not wonderful that Mr.
Gay should be doubtful. Now a tragedy is a different thing. That's
something everybody understands!"

"Do they? I fear then I'm very stupid. I saw a tragedy once and I'm not
sure I knew what it was about. The people on the stage made such long
speeches to each other they tired me to death. But I'm sure yours would
not be like that."

"Ah, you say that because you want to put me in good heart. We'll talk
no more about it, nor about myself either."

"Oh, but I do want to talk about you. I've something to say and I don't
know how to say it without hurting you," said Lavinia, hesitatingly.

"You don't mean you're going to bid me good-bye?" he burst out. "I won't
say _that_. You're the only one I've ever met who's encouraged me out of
pure good nature. When I've had money to spend on them, friends have
sought me out fawning and flattering. After they'd emptied my purse they
vanished."

"Yes, yes, and that's why I want to talk to you. Aren't you easily led
to take too much wine?"

"Perhaps--