or her to be obliged to
talk when Ephie was present, but it was impossible for them to walk the
whole way home as mum as this, especially as Dove had already heaved
more than one deep sigh.

So, as they turned into the PROMENADE, Johanna said with a jerk, and
with an aggressiveness that she could not subdue: "Well, that is the
first and the last time anyone shall persuade me to go to a so-called
opera by Wagner."

"Is not that just a little rash?" asked Dove. He smiled, unruffled,
with a suggestion of patronage; but there was also a preoccupation in
his manner, which showed that he was thinking of other things.

"You call that music," said Johanna, although he had done nothing of
the kind. "I call it noise. I am not musical myself, thank goodness,
but at least I know a tune when I hear one."

"If my opinion had been asked, I should certainly have suggested
something lighter--LOHENGRIN OR TANNHAUSER, for instance," said Dove.

"You would have done us a favour if you had," replied Johanna; and she
meant what she said, in more ways than one. She had been at a loss to
account for Ephie's sudden longing to hear DIE WALKURE, and had gone to
the theatre against her will, simply because she never thwarted Ephie
if she could avoid it. Now, after she had heard the opera, she felt
aggrieved with Dove as well; as far as she had been able to gather from
his vague explanations, from the bawling of the singers, and from
subsequent events, the first act treated of relations so infamous that,
by common consent, they are considered non-existent; and Johanna was of
the opinion that, instead of being so ready to take tickets for them,
Dove might have let drop a hint of the nature of the piece Ephie wished
to see.

After this last remark of Johanna's there was another lengthy pause.
Then Dove, looking fondly at what he could see of Ephie's cheek, said:
"I am afraid Miss Ephie has not enjoyed it either; she is so quiet--so
unlike herself."

Ephie, who had been staring into the darkness, bit her lip: he was at
it again. After the unfriendly way in which Maurice Guest had deserted
her, and forced her into Dove's company, Dove had worried her right
down the GRIMMAISCHESTRASSE, to know what the matter was, and how he
had offended her. She felt exasperated with every one, and if he began
his worryings again, would have to vent her irritation somehow.

"Ephie has only herself to blame if she didn't enjoy it; she was bent
on going," said