The paragraph
recalled the fact that it was just a year since Miss Quentin had made her
debut, and then went on to comment lightly upon the brief and meteoric
character of her professional appearances.
"Domesticity should not have claimed Miss Quentin"--so ran the actual
words. "Hers was a voice the like of which we may not hear again, and
the public grudges its withdrawal. _A propos_, we had always thought
(until circumstances proved us hopelessly wrong) that the fortunate man,
whose gain has been such a loss to the musical world, seemed born to
write plays for a certain charming actress--and she to play the part
which he assigned her."
Diana showed the paragraph to Max, who frowned as he read it, and finally
tore the newspaper in which it had appeared across and across, flinging
the pieces into the grate.
Then he turned and laid his hands on Diana's shoulders, gazing
searchingly into her face.
"Have you felt--anything of what that paragraph suggests?" he demanded.
"Am I taking too much from you, Diana? I love to keep you to myself--not
to have to share you with the world, but I won't stand in your light, or
hold you back if you wish to go--not even"--with a wry smile--"if it
should mean your absence on a tour."
"Silly boy!" Diana patted his head reprovingly. "I don't _want_ to sing
in public--at least, not now, not yet. Later on, I dare say, I shall
like to take it up again.
Pages:
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217