Miss Burgoyne
was amiability itself towards the whole company, so far as she had any
relations with them: and at her little receptions in the evening she was
all brightness and merriment, even when she had to join in the
conversation from behind the heavy _portiere_. Whether this small
coterie in the theatre guessed at the true state of affairs, it is hard
to say; but at least Miss Burgoyne did not trouble herself much about
concealment. She called her affianced lover "Lionel," no matter who
chanced to be present; and she would ask him to help her to hand the
tea, just as if he already belonged to her. Moreover, she told him that
Mr. Percival Miles had some suspicion of what had happened.
"Not that I would admit anything definite," said the young lady. "There
will be time enough for that. And I did not want a scene. But I'm sorry.
It does seem a pity that so much devotion should meet with no requital."
"Devotion!" said Lionel.
"Oh, of course you don't know what devotion is. Your fashionable friends
have taught you what good form is; you are _blase_, indifferent; it's
not women, it's cards, that interest you. You have no fresh feeling
left," continued this _ingenue_ of the greenroom.
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