"I'm feeling sick with fright," she replied, giving him a wavering
smile.
Max laughed easily.
"Of course. Otherwise you wouldn't be the artiste that you are. But
it will all go the moment you're on the platform."
She looked up at him with a faint hope in her eyes.
"Do you really think so?" she whispered.
"I'm sure. It always does," he lied cheerfully. "I'll tell you who is
far more nervous than you are, and that's the Rector. Miss Stair and
Jerry were almost forcibly holding him down in his seat when I left
them. He's disposed to bolt out of the hall and await results at the
hotel."
Diana laughed outright.
"How like him! Poor Pobs!"
"You'd better give him a special smile when you get on the platform to
reassure him," continued Max, his blue eyes smiling down at her.
The violin solo had drawn to a close--Kirolski had already returned a
third time to bow his acknowledgments--and Errington was relieved to
see that the look of strain had gone out of her face, although she
still appeared rather pale and shaken.
One or two friends of the violinist's were coming in at the door of the
artistes' room as Olga Lermontof preceded him down the platform steps.
There was a little confusion, the sound of a fall, and simultaneously
some one inadvertently pushed the door to. The next minute the
accompanist was the centre of a small crowd of anxious, questioning
people.
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