the Channel.

"We must go to the theatre," he said, "unless you prefer a hall; I
confess I'm sick of them. I haven't satisfied my ideas of
extravagance nearly yet. We will go and sit in the stalls at the
Royalty and see Jane May and the others; it will remind us of old
days."

"But, my dear fellow," expostulated the other, "it's so late, and
we're in morning dress. Let's go to-morrow night instead."

"Ah no! to-morrow I sha'n't be in the right mood. Never put off till
to-morrow, you know. Our not being in evening dress won't matter a
bit, they'll only think we're critics; and 'Niniche' doesn't begin
till nine."

On their speedy arrival at the modest portals of the little theatre,
Lightmark instructed his companion, with an air of mystery, to wait,
and presently emerged, smiling, from a triumphant encounter with the
gentleman presiding at the box-office.

"They had no stalls left," he whispered; "but they're going to put
us in two chairs at the side."

The house, with the exception of the more popular places, was
crowded; and the boisterous absurdity of the farce was at its
height. Rainham at first felt quite disconcerted by the proximity of
the ludicrous figure in bathing dress who was leaning over the
footlights, and declaiming his woes with a directness of appeal to
the audience which alone would have marked the nationality of the
robust actor, who was creating so much mirth out of the extremely
hackneyed situation. He had got into the wrong bathing-machine
(Lightmark seemed to find it intensely amusing) and the trousers of
the rightful occupant only came down to his knees. Rainham at first
was disconcerted, and then he began to feel bored. He fell into a
semi-comatose state of contemplation, from which he was only aroused
by the cadence on his ear of one of the most charming voices he had
ever heard. So he characterized it, to Lightmark's amusement, when
they were discussing their cigarettes and the _jeune premiere_ in the
interval between the acts.

"Oh for an epithet to describe her!" said Lightmark, catching his
friend's enthusiasm. "She isn't exactly pretty--yes, she _is_ pretty,
but she isn't beautiful! She's got any amount of what dramatic
critics call _chic_. Don't shudder--I hate the word quite as much as
you do, but it was inevitable. The only thing I feel sure about is
that she's _espiegle_, and altogether delightful. And how funny that
man is, or would be, if the authors had only given him a bet