They're talking of still
another lyric theatre; you'll have to save up your voice, Linn--by Jove!
you fellows will be in tremendous request. What else? Oh, nothing.
There's been a plucky thing done by a servant-girl in rescuing two
children from a fire--if there's a little testimonial to her, I'm in
with my humble guinea. But there's nothing in the papers--I'm glad I'm
not a leader-writer."
He went and got some more water for a jug of white lilies that stood on
the table, and began to put things a little straight--as if he were a
woman.
"Maurice!"
"You're not to talk, Linn, I tell you!"
"I must--just a word," Lionel said, and Mangan was forced to listen.
"What does the doctor really say?"
"About you?--oh, you're going on first-rate! Only you've to keep still
and quiet and not trouble about anything."
"What day is this?"
"Why, Tuesday."
He thought for a little.
"It--it was a Saturday I was taken ill? I have forgotten so many things.
But--but there's this, Maurice; if anything happens to me--the piano in
the next room--it belongs to me--you will give that to Francie for her
wedding-present. I would have--given her something more, but you know.
Pages:
704
705
706
707
708
709
710
711
712
713
714
715
716
717
718
719
720
721
722
723
724
725
726
727
728