It couldn't of course have occurred to her that she was producing her
own effect on the director; she couldn't have surmised that he was
driving his rehearsal at a faster pace and with a renewed energy and
fire because of the presence, there in the ranks of his chorus, of a
glowing, thrilling creature who devoured his intentions half formed, met
them with a blue spark across the poles of their two minds.
She realized, when the rehearsal was over, that it had gone well and
that it couldn't have gone so if her own part had been done badly. She
hesitated a moment after he'd finally dismissed them with a nod, and an,
"Eleven o'clock to-morrow morning, everybody," from a previously formed
intention of asking him if she'd do. But she felt, somehow, that such a
question would be foolish and unnecessary.
He had marked her hesitation and shot her a look that she felt followed
her as she walked off, and she heard him say to the world in general and
in a heartfelt sort of way, "Good God!" But she didn't know that it was
the highest encomium he was capable of, nor that it was addressed to
her.
Pages:
423
424
425
426
427
428
429
430
431
432
433
434
435
436
437
438
439
440
441
442
443
444
445
446
447