"
And so, for the time being, the subject dropped. But the shadow had
flitted for a moment across the face of the sun. A little cloud, no
bigger than a man's hand, had shown itself upon the horizon.
In July the Erringtons left town to spend a brief holiday at Crailing
Rectory, and on their return, the preparations for the production of
"Mrs. Fleming's Husband" went forward in good earnest.
They had not been back in town a week before Diana realised that, as the
wife of a dramatist on the eve of the production of a play, she must be
prepared to cede her prior right in her husband to the innumerable people
who claimed his time on matters relating to the forthcoming production,
and, above all, to the actress who was playing the leading part in it.
And it was in respect of this latter demand that Diana found the
matrimonial shoe begin to pinch. To her, it seemed as though Adrienne
were for ever 'phoning Max to come and see her, and invariably he set
everything else aside--even Diana herself, if needs be--and obeyed her
behest.
"I can't see why Adrienne wants to consult you so often," Diana protested
one day. "She is perpetually ringing you up to go round to Somervell
Street--or if it's not that, then she is writing to you."
Max laughed her protest aside.
"Well, there's a lot to consult about, you see," he said vaguely.
"So it seems. I shall be glad when it is all finished and I have you to
myself again.
Pages:
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219