Brindley and then about
Stanley Baird. Finding that he was in Italy, she
inquired: ``Do you happen to know his address?''
``I'll get it and send it to you. He has taken a house
at Monte Carlo for the winter.''
``And you?''
``I shall stay here--I think.''
``You may join him?''
``It depends''--he looked at her--``upon you.''
He could put a wonderful amount of meaning into a
slight inflection. She struggled--not in vain--to
keep from changing expression.
``You realize now that the career is quite hopeless?''
said he.
She did not answer.
``You do not like the stage life?''
``No.''
``And the stage life does not like you?''
``No.''
``Your voice lacks both strength and stability?''
``Yes.''
``And you have found the one way by which you
could get on--and you don't like it?''
``Crossley told you?'' said she, the color flaring.
``Your name was not mentioned. You may not
believe it, but Crossley is a gentleman.''
She walked on in silence.
``I did not expect your failure to come so soon--or
in quite that way,'' he went on.
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