"Oh, Polly!"
"And Saturday'll be my last appearance on any stage. Tom's going to allow me forty shillings a week until we're married; and of course I shall have my meat for nothing--he won't hear of my keeping on at the theatre. He's making money hand over fist at that shop of his; sold ten beasts last week and I don't know how many sheep. You should hear him talking! I shall be riding in my carriage before you know where you are."
Lizzie was leaning against the mantelshelf as Agnes Graham had leaned, and, as the famous actress had done, was looking down at the empty grate.
"I'm glad you're leaving the theatre. I was beginning to get worried about you."
"Worried about me! Whatever for?"
Again Miss Polly's countenance was instinct with impish roguery.
"Oh, you know very well what I mean, my lady, so no pretending. You're too pretty for the theatre, and that's the truth."
"Why, I thought a theatre was just the place where pretty girls are wanted."
"Maybe. But pretty girls don't want a theatre, leastways, not if they can help it, they don't." Lizzie spoke with sudden animation. "But talk about your news! What do you think's come my way?"
"A set of diamonds?"