Ashmead, too, chuckled at his own
wit, but turned suddenly grave the next moment, and moralized. He
pronounced it desirable, for the interests of mankind, that a great and
rising singer should not love out of the business; outsiders were
wrong-headed and absurd, and did not understand the true artist. However,
having discoursed for some time in this strain, he began to fear it might
be unpalatable to her; so he stopped abruptly, and said, "But there--what
is done is done. We must make the best of it; and you mustn't think I
meant to run _him_ down. He loves you, in his way. He must be a noble
fellow, or he never could have won such a heart as yours. He won't be
jealous of an old fellow like me, though I love you, too, in my humdrum
way, and always did. You must do me the honor to present me to him at
once."
Ina stared at him, but said nothing.
"Oh," continued Ashmead, "I shall be busy till evening; but I will ask
him and you to dine with me at the Kursaal, and then adjourn to the Royal
Box. You are a queen of song, and that is where you and he shall sit, and
nowhere else."
Ina Klosking was changing color all this time, and cast a grateful but
troubled look on him.
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