"Why this _nil admirari_ attitude?" she asked. "Have you and Adrienne
quarrelled?"
"Quarrelled?" Diana raised her brows ever so slightly. "What should
we quarrel about? As a matter of fact, I really don't see very much of
her nowadays."
"So I imagined," replied Joan calmly. "When I stayed with you last
May, either she came to the Lodge, or you went to Somervell Street,
every day of the week. This time, you've not seen each other since I
came."
"No? I don't think"--lightly--"that Adrienne cares much for members of
her own sex. She prefers--their husbands."
Joan stared in amazement. The little acid speech was so unlike Diana
that she felt convinced it sprang from some new and strong antagonism
towards the actress. What could be the cause of it? Diana and
Adrienne had been warm friends only a few months ago!
Joan's eyes travelled from Diana's small, set face to Jerry's pleasant
boyish one. The latter had opened his mouth to speak, then thought
better of it, and closed it again, reddening uncomfortably, and his
dismayed expression was so obvious as to be almost comic.
The rise of the curtain for the third and last act put a summary end to
any further conversation and Joan bent her attention on the stage once
more, though all the time that her eyes and ears were absorbing the
shifting scenes and brilliant dialogue of the play a little, persistent
inner voice at the back of her brain kept repeating Diana's nonchalant
"_I really don't see very much of her nowadays_," and querying
irrepressibly, "_Why not_?"
Meanwhile, Diana, unconscious of the uneasy curiosity she had awakened
in the mind of Joan, was watching the progress of the play intently.
Pages:
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232