"
Max shook his head.
"You know I can't do that," he replied quietly.
Baroni threw out his arms in despair.
"I would tell her the whole truth myself--but for the memory of one who
is dead." Sudden tears dimmed the fierce old eyes. "For the sake of
that sainted martyr--martyr in life as well as in death--I will hold my
peace."
A half-sad, half-humorous smile flashed across Errington's face.
"We're all of us martyrs--more or less," he observed drily.
"And you wish to add Mees Quentin to the list?" retorted Baroni.
"Well, I warn you, I shall fight against it. I will do everything in
my power to stop this marriage."
Max shrugged his shoulders.
"I'm sure you will," he said, smiling faintly. "But--forgive me,
_Maestro_--I don't think you will succeed."
As soon as Baroni had taken his departure, Max called a taxi, and
hurried off to see Adrienne de Gervais. He had arranged to talk over
with her a certain scene in the play he was now writing for her, and
which was to be produced early in the New Year.
Adrienne welcomed him good-humouredly.
"A little late," she observed, glancing at the clock. "But I suppose
one must not expect punctuality when a man's in love."
"I know I'm late, but I can assure you"--with a grim smile--"love had
little enough to do with it."
Adrienne looked up sharply, struck by the bitter note in his voice.
"Then what had?" she asked.
Pages:
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210