“I really can’t say, but I think not.”

“What did she say to him when she went into his dressing-room? I know all about it, because one of our girls has a sister who’s in the Opera chorus, and her sister saw Rosa go in. I do want to know what she said, and what he said.”

An impulse seized me to invent a harmless little tale for the diversion of Marie Deschamps. I was astonished at my own enterprise. I perceived that I was getting accustomed to the society of greatness.

“Really?” she exclaimed, when I had finished.

“I assure you.”

“He’s teasing,” Sullivan said.

“Mr. Foster wouldn’t