"Beatrice," he announced, "there is a man outside who has heard
you sing and who wants to be introduced."
She took the card and her eyes opened wide.
"Do you know who he is?" Tavernake asked.
"Of course," she answered. "He is a great producer of musical
comedies. Let me think."
She stood with the card in her hand. Some one else was singing
now--an ordinary modern ballad of love and roses, rapture and
despair. They heard the rising and falling of the woman's voice;
the clatter of the dinner had ceased. Beatrice stood still
thinking, her fingers clinching the card of Mr. Sidney Grier.
"You must bring him in," she said to Tavernake finally.
Tavernake went outside.
"My sister will see you," he remarked, with the air of one who
brings good news.
Mr. Sidney Grier grunted. He was not used to being kept waiting,
even for a second. Tavernake ushered him into the retiring room,
and the other two musicians who were there stared at him as at a
god.
"This is the gentleman whose card you have, Beatrice," Tavernake
announced. "Mr. Sidney Grier--Miss Tavernake!"
The man smiled.
"Your brother seems to be suspicious of me," he declared. "I
found it quite difficult to persuade him that you might find it
interesting to talk to me for a few minutes."
"He does not quite understand," Beatrice answered. "He has not
much experience of musical affairs or the stage, and your name
would not have any significance for him.
Pages:
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90