never end? How long would the fat, ugly
Brunnhilde stand talking to Siegmund and the woman who lay so
ungracefully between his knees? As if it mattered a straw what these
sham people did or felt! Would he speak to her in the next interval, or
would he not?

The side curtains had hardly swept down before she was up from her
seat, hurrying Johanna away. This time she chose to stand against the
wall, at the end of the FOYER. After a short time, he came in sight,
but he had no more attention to spare for her than before; he did not
even look in her direction. Her one consolation was that obviously he
was not enjoying himself; he wore a surly face, was not speaking, and,
to a remark the girl in white made, he answered by an angry flap of the
hand. When they had twice gone past in this way, and she had each time
vainly put herself forward, Ephie began to take an interest in what
Dove was saying, to smile at him and coquet with him, and the more
openly, the nearer Schilsky drew. Other people grew attentive, and Dove
went into a seventh heaven, which made it hard for him placidly to
accept the fit of pettish silence, she subsequently fell into.

The crowning touch was put to this disastrous evening by the fact that
Schilsky's companion of the FOYER walked the greater part of the way
home with them; and, what was worse, that she took not the slightest
notice of Ephie.

XI.

Before leaving her bedroom the following morning, Ephie wrote on her
scented pink paper a short letter, which began: "Dear Mr. Schilsky,"
and ended with: "Your sincere friend, Euphemia Stokes Cayhill." In this
letter, she "failed to understand" his conduct of the previous evening,
and asked him for an explanation. Not until she had closed the
envelope, did she remember that she was ignorant of his address. She
bit the end of her pen, thinking hard, and directly breakfast was over,
put on her hat and slipped out of the house.

It was the first time Ephie had had occasion to enter the BUREAU of the
Conservatorium; and, when the heavy door had swung to behind her, and
she was alone in the presence of the secretaries, each of whom was bent
over a high desk, writing in a ledger, her courage almost failed her.
The senior, an old, white-haired man, with a benevolent face, did not
look up; but after she had stood hesitating for some minutes, an
under-secretary solemnly laid down his pen, and coming to the counter,
wished in English to know what he coul