"One thing more," insisted Brent. "In our relations, we are
to be not man and woman, but master and pupil. I shan't waste
your time with any--other matters."
It was Susan's turn to laugh. "That's your polite way of
warning me not to waste any of your time with--other matters."
"Precisely," conceded he. "A man in my position--a man in any
sort of position, for that matter--is much annoyed by women
trying to use their sex with him. I wished to make it clear
at the outset that----"
"That I could gain nothing by neglecting the trade of actress
for the trade of woman," interrupted Susan. "I understand
perfectly."
He put out his hand. "I see that at least we'll get on
together. I'll have Fitzalan send the carpenter to your
friend at once."
"Today!" exclaimed Susan, in surprise and delight.
"Why not?" He arranged paper and pen. "Sit here and write
Spenser's address, and your own. Your salary begins with
today. I'll have my secretary mail you a check. And as soon
as I can see you again, I'll send you a telegram.
Meanwhile--" He rummaged among a lot of paper bound plays on
the table "Here's `Cavalleria Rusticana.' Read it with a view
to yourself as either _Santuzzao_ or _Lola_. Study her first
entrance--what you would do with it. Don't be frightened. I
expect nothing from you--nothing whatever. I'm glad you know
nothing about acting. You'll have the less to unlearn.
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