"Every one says his temper is diabolical." "It is," replied Diana, with conviction.
"Still," broke in Errington's quiet voice, "I should have thought he would have found it somewhat difficult to be very angry with Miss Quentin." Diana fancied she detected the familiar flavour of irony in the cool tones.
"On the contrary, he apparently found it perfectly simple," she retorted sharply.
"And yet," interposed Adrienne, "from the panegyrics he indulged in upon the subject of your voice after you had gone, I'm sure he thinks the world of you." "Oh, I'm just a voice to him--nothing more," said Diana.
"To be 'just a voice' to Baroni means to be the most important thing on earth," observed Errington.

"I believe he would imperil his immortal soul to give a supremely beautiful voice to the world." "Nonsense, Max," protested Adrienne.

"You talk as if he were perfectly conscienceless." "So he is, except in so far as art is concerned, and then his conscience assumes the form of sheer idolatry.

I believe he would sacrifice anything and anybody for the sake of it." "Well, it's to be hoped you're wrong," said Adrienne, smiling, and again Diana thought she detected a glance of mutual understanding pass between the actress and Max Errington.
A little uncomfortable sense as of being _de trop_ invaded her.

She felt that for some reason Errington would be glad when she had gone.
Possibly he had come to see Miss de Gervais about some business matter in connection with the play he had written, and was only awaiting her departure to discuss it.