But when the curtain goes down on my death scene, come
behind again. I shan't take any calls--after dying, it's too inartistic,
isn't it? And I never do. I'll see you for just a few more minutes here,
in this room, before I dress to go home."
"For a few minutes!" Raoul caught me up. "But afterwards? You promised
me long ago that I should have supper with you at your house--just you
and I alone together--on the first night of the new play."
My heart gave a jump as he reminded me of this promise. Never before had
I forgotten an engagement with Raoul. But this time I had forgotten.
There had been so many miserable things to think of, that they had
crowded the one pleasant thing out of my tortured brain. I drew away
from him involuntarily with a start of surprise.
"You'd forgotten!" exclaimed Raoul, disappointed and hurt.
"Only for the instant," I said, "because I'm hardly myself. I'm tired
and excited, unstrung, as I always am on first nights. But--"
"Would you rather not be bothered with me?" he asked wistfully, as I
paused to think what I should do.
His eyes looked as if the light had suddenly gone out of them, and I
couldn't bear that.
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