"I say--I say!"

"What's the matter?" Wayworth asked.

"I'm glad to see Miss Grey is taking such pains with you."

"Oh, yes--she'll turn me out!" said the young man, gaily. He was
quite aware that it was apparent he was not superficial about Nona,
and abundantly determined, into the bargain, that the rehearsal of
the piece should not sacrifice a shade of thoroughness to any
extrinsic consideration.

Mrs. Alsager, whom, late in the afternoon, he used often to go and
ask for a cup of tea, thanking her in advance for the rest she gave
him and telling her how he found that rehearsal (as THEY were doing
it--it was a caution!) took it out of one--Mrs. Alsager, more and
more his good genius and, as he repeatedly assured her, his
ministering angel, confirmed him in this superior policy and urged
him on to every form of artistic devotion. She had, naturally, never
been more interested than now in his work; she wanted to hear
everything about everything. She treated him as heroically fatigued,
plied him with luxurious restoratives, made him stretch himself on
cushions and rose-leaves. They gossipped more than ever, by her
fire, about the artistic life; he confided to her, for instance, all
his hopes and fears, all his experiments and anxieties, on the
subject of the representative of Nona. She was immensely interested
in this young lady and showed it by taking a box again and again (she
had seen her half-a-dozen times already), to study her capacity
through the veil of her present part. Like Allan Wayworth she found
her encouraging only by fits, for she had fine flashes of badness.