"Yes," said the latter quickly. "I went to rehea.r.s.e my song in 'The Grey Gown' with him. He was rather crochety that day," she added, smiling.

Diana smiled in sympathy.

"Well, if he was crochety with you, Miss de Gervais," she observed, "you can perhaps imagine what he was like to me!"

"Was he so very bad?" asked Adrienne, laughing. "Every one says his temper is diabolical."

"It is," replied Diana, with conviction.

"Still," broke in Errington's quiet voice, "I should have thought he would have found it somewhat difficult to be very angry with Miss Quentin."

Diana fancied she detected the familiar flavour of irony in the cool tones.

"On the contrary, he apparently found it perfectly simple," she retorted sharply.

"And yet," interposed Adrienne, "from the panegyrics he indulged in upon the subject of your voice after you had gone, I'm sure he thinks the world of you."

"Oh, I'm just a voice to him--nothing more," said Diana.

"To be 'just a voice' to Baroni means to be the most important thing on earth," observed Errington. "I believe he would imperil his immortal soul to give a supremely beautiful voice to the world."

"Nonsense, Max," protested Adrienne. "You talk as if he were perfectly conscienceless."

"So he is, except in so far as art is concerned, and then his conscience a.s.sumes the form of sheer idolatry. I believe he would sacrifice anything and anybody for the sake of it."

"Well, it's to be hoped you're wrong," said Adrienne, smiling, and again Diana thought she detected a glance of mutual understanding pa.s.s between the actress and Max Errington.

A little uncomfortable sense as of being _de trop_ invaded her. She felt that for some reason Errington would be glad when she had gone.

Possibly he had come to see Miss de Gervais about some business matter in connection with the play he had written, and was only awaiting her departure to discuss it. He had not appeared in the least pleased to find her there on his arrival, and from that moment onward the conversation had become distinctly laboured.

She wished very much that Miss de Gervais had not pressed her to stay when he came, and at the first opportunity she rose to go. This time, Adrienne made no effort to detain her, although she asked her cordially to come again another day.

As Diana drove back in a taxi to Brutton Square she was conscious of a queer sense of disappointment in the outcome of her meeting with Max Errington. It had been so utterly different from anything she had expected--quite commonplace and ordinary, exactly as though they had been no more than the most casual acquaintances.

She hardly knew what she had actually antic.i.p.ated. Certainly, she told herself irritably, she could not have expected him to have treated her with marked warmth of manner in the presence of others, and therefore his behaviour had been just what the circ.u.mstances demanded. But, notwithstanding the a.s.surance she gave herself that this was the common-sense view to take of the matter, she had an instinctive feeling that, even had there been no one else to consider, Errington's manner would still have shown no greater cordiality. For some reason he had decided to lock the door on the past, and the polite friendly indifference with which he had treated her was intended to indicate quite clearly the att.i.tude he proposed to adopt.

She supposed he repented that brief, vivid moment in the car, and wished her to understand that it held no significance--that it was merely a chance incident in this world where one amuses oneself as occasion offers. Presumably he feared that, not being a woman of the world, she might attach a deeper meaning to it than the circ.u.mstances warranted, and was anxious to set her right on that point.

Her pride rose in revolt. Olga Lermontof's words returned to her mind with fresh enlightenment: "I shouldn't allow myself to become too interested in him, if I were you." Surely she had intended this as a friendly warning to Diana not to take anything Max Errington might do or say very seriously!

Well, there would be no danger of that in the future; she had learned her lesson and would take care to profit by it.

CHAPTER X

MISS LERMONTOF'S ADVICE

As Diana entered the somewhat dingy hall at 34 Brutton Square on her return from visiting Adrienne, the first person she encountered was Olga Lermontof. She still retained her dislike of the accompanist and was preparing to pa.s.s by with a casual remark upon the coldness of the weather, when something in the Russian's pale, fatigued face arrested her.

"How frightfully tired you look!" she exclaimed, pausing on the staircase as the two made their way up together.

"I am, rather," returned Miss Lermontof indifferently. "I've been playing accompaniments all afternoon, and I've had no tea."

Diana hesitated an instant, then she said impulsively--"Oh, do come into my room and let me make you a cup."

Olga Lermontof regarded her with a faint surprise.

"Thanks," she said in her abrupt way. "I will."

A cheerful little fire was burning in the grate, and the room presented a very comfortable and home-like appearance, for Diana had added a couple of easy-chairs and several Liberty cushions to its somewhat spa.r.s.e furniture. A heavy curtain, hung in front of the door to exclude draughts, gave an additional cosy touch, and fresh flowers adorned both chimney-piece and table.

Olga Lermontof let her long, lithe figure down into one of the easy-chairs with a sigh of satisfaction, while Diana set the kettle on the fire to boil, and produced from the depths of a cupboard a canister of tea and a tin of attractive-looking biscuits.

"I often make my own tea up here," she observed. "I detest having it in that great barrack of a dining-room downstairs. The bread-and-b.u.t.ter is always so thick--like doorsteps!--and the cake is very emphatically of the 'plain, home-made' variety."

Olga nodded.

"You look very comfortable here," she replied. "If you saw my tiny bandbox of a room on the fourth floor you'd realise what a sybarite you are."

Diana wondered a little why Olga Lermontof should need to economise by having such a small room and one so high up. She was invariably well-dressed--Diana had frequently caught glimpses of silken petticoats and expensive shoes--and she had not in the least the air of a woman who is accustomed to small means.

Almost as though she had uttered her thought aloud, Miss Lermontof replied to it, smiling rather satirically.

"You're thinking I don't look the part? It's true I haven't always been so poor as I am now. But a lot of my money is invested in Ru--abroad, and owing to--to various things"--she stammered a little--"I can't get hold of it just at present, so I'm dependent on what I make. And an accompanist doesn't earn a fortune, you know. But I can't quite forego pretty clothes--I wasn't brought up that way. So I economise over my room."

Diana was rather touched by the little confidence; somehow she didn't fancy the other had found it very easy to make, and she liked her all the better for it.

"No," she agreed, as she poured out two steaming cups of tea. "I suppose accompanying doesn't pay as well as some other things--the stage, for example. I should think Adrienne de Gervais makes plenty of money."

"She has private means, I believe," returned Miss Lermontof. "But, of course, she gets an enormous salary."

She was drinking her tea appreciatively, and a little colour had crept into her cheeks, although the shadows still lay heavily beneath her light-green eyes. They were of a curious translucent green, the more noticeable against the contrasting darkness of her hair and brows; they reminded one of the colour of Chinese jade.

"I've just been to tea with Miss de Gervais," volunteered Diana, after a pause.

A swift look of surprise crossed Olga Lermontof's face.

"I didn't know you had met her," she said slowly.

"Yes, we met at Signor Baroni's the other day. She came in during my lesson. I believe I told you she had taken a house at Crailing, so that at home we are neighbours, you see."

"Miss Lermontof consumed a biscuit in silence. Then she said abruptly:--

"Miss Quentin, I know you don't like me, but--well, I have an odd sort of wish to do you a good turn. You had better have nothing to do with Adrienne de Gervais."

Diana stared at her in undisguised amazement, the quick colour rushing into her face as it always did when she was startled or surprised.