"Oh, I'm sorry!" said Biddy. She was as frank as if she had achieved a sort of victory over her companion; and she seemed to regret the loss of a chance for Mrs. Dallow to show magnanimity. Her tone made her brother laugh, but she went on, with confidence: "She thought it was Mr. Nash who made Miss Rooth come."
"So he did, by the way," said Nick.
"Well, then, wasn't that making trouble?"
"I thought you admitted there was no harm in her being here."
"Yes, but he hoped there would be."
"Poor Nash's hopes!" Nick laughed. "My dear child, it would take a cleverer head than you or me, or even Julia, who must have invented that wise theory, to say what they were. However, let us agree, that even if they were perfectly devilish my good sense has been a match for them."
"Oh, Nick, that's delightful!" chanted Biddy. Then she added, "Do you mean she doesn't come any more?"
"The dishevelled actress? She hasn't been near me for months."
"But she's in London—she's always acting? I've been away so much I've scarcely observed," Biddy explained, with a slight change of note.
"The same part, poor creature, for nearly a year. It appears that that's success, in her profession. I saw her in the character several times last summer, but I haven't set foot in her theatre since."
Biddy was silent a moment; then she suggested: "Peter wouldn't have liked that."
