Diana stared at her in surprise.
"But why? Even if I should succeed, within the next few years, you
will still be Adrienne de Gervais, the famous actress."
Adrienne smiled across at her.
"Ah, I cannot tell you why," she said lightly. "But--I think it will
be like that."
Her eyes gazed dreamily into space, as though she perceived some vision
of the future, but whether that future were of rose and gold or only of
a dull grey, Diana could not tell.
Of Max Errington she saw very little. It seemed as though he were
determined to avoid her, for she frequently saw him leaving Adrienne's
house on a day when she was expected there--hurrying away just as she
herself was approaching from the opposite end of the street.
Only once or twice, when she had chanced to pay an unexpected visit,
had he come in and found her there. On these occasions his manner had
been studiously cold and indifferent, and any effort on her part
towards establishing a more friendly footing had been invariably
checked by some cruelly ironical remark, which had brought the blood to
her cheeks and, almost, the tears to her eyes. She reflected grimly
that Olga Lermontof's warning words had proved decidedly superfluous.
Meanwhile, she had struck up a friendship with Errington's private
secretary, a young man of the name of Jerry Leigh, who was a frequent
visitor at Adrienne's house. Jerry was, in truth, the sort of person
with whom it was impossible to be otherwise than friendly.
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