When will the play be on?"
"About the middle of October," he replied, fidgeting restlessly with the
papers that strewed his desk. They were talking in his own particular
den, and Diana's eyes ruefully followed the restless gesture.
"I suppose," she said slowly, "you want me to go?"
"Well"--apologetically--"I have a lot to attend to this morning. Will
you send Jerry to me--do you mind, dearest?"
"It wouldn't make much difference if I did," she responded grimly, as she
went towards the door.
Max looked after her thoughtfully in silence. When she had gone, he
leaned his head rather wearily upon his hand.
"It's better so," he muttered. "Better she should think it's only the
play that binds me to Adrienne."
CHAPTER XVIII
THE APPROACHING SHADOW
Diana gathered up her songs and slowly dropped them into her
music-case, while Baroni stared at her with a puzzled, brooding look in
his eyes.
At last he spoke:--
"You are throwing away the great gift God has given you. First, you
will take no more engagements, and now--what is it? Where is your
voice?"
Diana, conscious of having done herself less than justice at the lesson
which was just concluded, shook her head.
"I don't know," she said simply. "I don't seem able to sing now,
somehow."
Baroni shrugged his shoulders.
"You are fretting," he declared. "And so the voice suffers."
"Fretting? I don't know that I've anything to fret about"--vaguely.
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