Perhaps they ask her to dine; and she sings to
them after; and Leo says to himself, Poor thing; no; her voice is
not so reedy. The _denouement_?--but I am not come to it yet; I
have not arranged what will arrive then.
"What is the time of your return, Leo? And you know what will be
then? You will find on the stage another Grace Mainwaring, who will
sing always out of tune, and be so stupid that you will have fury
and will complain to the Manager. Ah, there is now no one to speak
with you from behind a fan--only a dull heavy stupid. Misera me!
What shall I do? All the poetry departed from Harry Thornhill's
singing--there is no more fascination for him--he looks up to the
window--he sings 'The starry night brings me no rest'--and he says
'Bother to that stupid Italian girl!--why am I to sing to her?'
Poor Leo, he will be disconsolate; but not for long. No; Miss
Burgoyne will be coming back; and then he will have some one for to
talk with from behind the fan.
"Now, Leo, if you can read any more, I must attend to what you call
_beesness_. When Miss Burgoyne returns, I do not go back to be
under-study to Miss Girond--no--Mr.
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