Dennie laughed quietly.
"Aye, aye!" he said. "But--don't you think we folk of the profession are
a little bit apt to magnify our own importance? You say 'Bless me, how
could anybody ever forget an introduction to Bassett Oliver!' But we must
remember that to some people even a famous actor is of no more importance
than--shall we say a respectable grocer? Marston Greyle may be one of
those people--it's quite possible he may have been introduced, quite
casually, to Oliver at some club, or gathering, something-or-other, over
there and have quite forgotten all about it. Quite possible, I think."
"I agree with you as to the possibility, but certainly not as to the
probability," said Mrs. Greyle, dryly. "Bassett Oliver was the sort of
man whom nobody would forget. But here we are at our cottage--you'll come
in, Mr. Dennie?"
"It will only have to be for a little time, my dear lady," said the old
actor, pulling out his watch. "Our people are going back very soon, and I
must join them at the station."
"I'll give you a glass of good old wine," said Mrs. Greyle as they went
into the cottage. "I have some that belonged to my father-in-law, the old
Squire. You must taste it--for old times' sake."
Mr. Dennie followed Audrey into the little parlour as Mrs. Greyle
disappeared to another part of the house. And the instant they were
alone, he tapped the girl's arm and gave her a curiously warning look.
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