"Absolutely," he answered. "I insist upon it."
She leaned towards him with dancing eyes. After all, she was very much of a child. The prospect of a new gown, now that she permitted herself to think of it, was enthralling.
"I might get a coat and skirt," she remarked thoughtfully, "and a simple white dress. A black hat would do for both of them, then."
"Don't you study your brother too much," Laverick declared. "His stock is going up all the time."
"Tell me your favorite color," she begged confidentially.
"I can't conceive your looking nicer than you do in black," he replied.
She made a wry face.
"I suppose it must be black," she murmured doubtfully. "It is much more economical than anything--"
She broke off to bow to a stout, red-faced man who, after a rude stare, had greeted her with a patronizing nod. Laverick frowned.
"Who is that fellow?" he asked.
"Mr. Heepman, our stage-manager," Zoe answered, a little timidly.
"Is there any particular reason why he should behave like a boor?" Laverick continued, raising his voice a little.
She caught at his arm in terror. The man was sitting at the next table.
"Don't, please!" she implored. "He might hear you. He is just behind there."
Laverick half turned in his chair. She guessed what he was about to say, and went on rapidly.
"He has been so foolish," she whispered. "He has asked me so often to go out with him. And he could get me sent away, if he wanted, any time. He almost threatened it, the last time I refused. Now that he has seen me with you, he will be worse than ever."
Laverick's face darkened, and there was a peculiar flash in his eyes. The man was certainly looking at them in a rude manner.
"There are so many of the girls who would only be too pleased to go with him," Zoe continued, in a terrified undertone. "I can't think why he bothers me."
"I can," Laverick muttered. "Let's forget about the brute."
But the dinner was already spoiled for Zoe, so Laverick paid the bill a few minutes later, and walked across to the stage-door of the theatre with her. Her little hand, when she gave it to him at parting, was quite cold.
"I'm as nervous as I can be," she confessed. "Mr. Heepman will be watching all the night for something to find fault with me about."
"Don't you let him bully you," Laverick begged.
"I won't," she promised. "Good-bye! Thanks so much for my dinner."
She turned away with a brave attempt at a smile, but it was only an attempt. Laverick walked on to his club. There was no one in the dining-room whom he knew, and the card-room was empty. He played one game of billiards, but he played badly. He was upset. His nerves were wrong he told himself, and little wonder. There seemed to be no chance of a rubber at bridge, so he sallied out again and walked aimlessly towards Covent Garden. Outside the Opera House he hesitated and finally entered, yielding to an impulse the nature of which he scarcely recognized. While he was inquiring about a stall, a small printed notice was thrust into his hand. He read it with a slight start.