"Yes," she said, and saw Ranna glowering. She waved, but he did not respond.
"I think your fiancee very pretty. What does she see in you?" she kidded, to keep Lyle off the subject of herself.
"I have no idea," he said shortly, and they danced in silence until he got her off into a corner. "Why did you do it, you knew you could have anything you wanted?"
"I didn't want anything. Let's go and get you a drink."
"No."
"What do you think of modern art?"
"I'm not as drank as that, so stop it! I hear Beman has a play just right for you."
"Why doesn't he tell me about it himself?"
"He thinks you aren't as serious about your career as you used to be."
"Well, I like that!"
"Why don't you stop running around with that darky dancer and settle down? I'd like to see you in that play next winter. It's what you want, isn't it?"
So that was why Beman had been so enthusiastic. She knew it was a play she could do and an opportunity which might never come again. The plot, revolving about her as the lead, required only that she dance in dream sequences. But she knew too that Lyle was offering the play to her along with himself.
"Ranna is a great artist and besides who I go out with is none of your business."
"It is—because I love you. You know I do."
"We don't have the same idea of love."
"Marry' me. We'll spend the spring and summer in Europe, then you'll do the play. I promise."
"What about Clarissa?"
"She's a civilized girl and will understand. There's no reason to bring her into this."
"You know what? I don't like you. I thought you were nice in the beginning and that if I tried maybe I'd fall in love with you. You don't give anyone a chance—you think you can buy everything."
Stung, he loosened his grasp. "Oh, I don't know! You jumped at the apartment."
"You know I hated it when you talked Mother into moving there. I'm not like those girls in that apartment you took me to."
