Page:The Tragic Muse (London & New York, Macmillan & Co., 1890), Volume 2.djvu/112

104 Miriam burst out laughing. "You look so droll! You offer me yourself then, instead of all these things."

"My child, I also am a very clever man," he said, smiling, though conscious that for a moment he had stood gaping.

"You are—you are; I delight in you. No ladies at all—no femmes comme il faut?" Miriam began again.

"Ah, what do they matter? Your business is the artistic life!" he broke out with inconsequence and with a little irritation at hearing her sound that trivial note again.

"You're a dear— your charming good sense comes back to you! What do you want of me then?"

"I want you for myself—not for others; and now, in time, before anything's done."

"Why then did you bring me here? Everything's done; I feel it to-night."

"I know the way you should look at it—if you do look at it at all," Sherringham conceded.

"That's so easy! I thought you liked the stage so," Miriam said, artfully.

"Don't you want me to be a great swell?"

"And don't you want me to be?"

"You will be—you'll share my glory."

"So will you share mine."

"The husband of an actress? Yes, I see that!" Sherringham cried, with a frank ring of disgust.

"It's a silly position, no doubt. But if you're too good for it why talk about it? Don't you think I'm important?" Miriam inquired. Her companion stood looking at her, and she suddenly said in a different tone: "Ah, why should we