"Come in!" she cried.
The feeble Tommy presented himself. His weak mouth trembled more than
ever, and he was apparently conscious of this, for he passed his hand
nervously across it two or three times.
"Well, what's up?" inquired the "star" of the Brilliant, fingering her
bank-notes as she spoke.
"Miss Vere," stammered Tommy, "I venture to ask you a favor,--could you
kindly, very kindly lend me ten shillings till to-morrow night? I am so
pressed just now--and my wife is ill in bed--and--" he stopped, and his
eyes sought her face hopefully, yet timidly.
"You shouldn't have a wife, Tommy!" averred Violet with blunt frankness.
"Wives are expensive articles. Besides, I never lend. I never
give--except to public charities where one's name gets mentioned in the
papers. I'm obliged to do that, you know, by way of advertisement. Ten
shillings! Why, I can't afford ten pence! My bills would frighten you,
Tommy! There go along, and don't cry, for goodness sake! Let your fiddle
cry for you!"
"Oh, Miss Vere," once more pleaded Tommy, "if you knew how my wife
suffers--"
The actress rose and stamped her foot impatiently.
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