Why didn’t she see that Jarvis would never understand what made her do it, that he would resent it.
Some days she was in a fury at him for not understanding her. Other days she wanted him so that she could scarcely refrain from taking a train to New York and looking for him. In her sane moments she knew that the only thing she could do now was to wait.
Richard Strong came down to dine and spend the night, and one thing he said added to her misery.
“Jarvis stayed in town, didn’t he?” he remarked.
“Yes.”
“Looking after things there, I suppose? I passed him on the street yesterday, but he didn’t see me.”
“You passed him yesterday?” breathlessly.
“Yes. The opening and the strain of the rehearsal knocked him out, didn’t it? He looked as gaunt as a monk.”
“Jarvis takes things very seriously.”
“By the way, how did he take your joke?”
She looked directly at him and answered frankly: “He didn’t think it was funny at all.”
“Oh, that’s a pity.”
“I’m through with jokes, Richard, through with them for all time,” she said, her lips quivering.
