“I am having a most unexpectedly good time,” the Professor admitted to them all.
Jarvis’s state of mind was painful as the last act began. In the next thirty minutes he was to meet the woman he thought he loved. Since his confession to Bambi the night before, a doubt had raised its head to stare at him as to the real depth of his feeling for his unknown inamorata. Had he really been moved by love, or was it only a need of sympathy for his hurt pride that had driven him to her? Bambi’s strange behaviour, her admission that she did not love Strong, most of all those moments when she lay in his arms—they had upset all his convictions and emotions. He paid no attention to the act at all, torn as he was as to what the night would bring him.
He was aroused by storms of applause. The curtain went up again, and again; the company bowed solo and in a group. Then calls of “Author! Author!” were heard all over the house. Bambi clutched Jarvis’s sleeve and drew him back of the box.
“Go on! You’ve got to go out and bow. You do it alone, Jarvis—”
In answer he took her arm and propelled her in front of him, back on the stage.
“Here they are! give them full stage!” said the
