ng about your case. The thing has never been
done before. Says they're going mad over your chap in Paris--they've
given him medals and wreaths and decorations till he goes about like a
prize bull at a fair. By Jove, it's good to see you again."

"You might have taken an earlier opportunity," Agatha remarked with some
acidity.

"So I might," retorted Dale blandly; "but when a man's a born ass it
takes him some time to cultivate sense! I've been wanting to see you for
a long time, Simon--and to-night I just couldn't resist it. You don't
want to kick me out?"

"Heaven forbid," said I, somewhat brokenly, for the welcome sight of his
face and the sound of his voice aroused emotions which even now I do not
care to analyse. "It was generous of you to come up."

He coloured. "Rot!" said he, in his breezy way. "Hallo! The curtain's
going up. What's the next item? Oh, those fool dogs!"

"I adore performing dogs!" said Agatha, looking toward the stage.

He turned to me. "Do you?"

The last thing on earth I desired to behold at that moment was a
performing animal. My sensitiveness led me to suspect a quizzical look
in Dale's eye. Fortunately, he did not wait for my answer, but went on
in a boyish attempt to appease Agatha.

"I don't despise them, you know, Lady Durrell, but I've seen them twice
before. They're really rather good. There's a football match at the end
which is quite exciting."

"Oh, the beauties!" cried Agatha over her shoulder as the dogs trotted
on the stage. I nodded an acknowledgment of the remark, and she plunged
into rapt contemplation of the act. Dale and I stood at the back of the
box. Suddenly he whispered:

"Come out into the corridor. I've something to say to you."

"Certainly," said I, and followed him out of the box.

He thrust his hands into his pockets and looked at me with the defiant
and you-be-damned air of the young Briton who was about to commit a
gracious action. I knew what he was going to say. I could tell by his
manner. I dreaded it, and yet I loved him for it.

"Why say anything, my dear boy?" I asked. "You want to be friends with
me again, and God knows I want to be friends again with you. Why talk?"

"I've got to get if off my chest," said he, in his so familiar
vernacular. "I want to tell you that I've been every end of a silly ass
and I want you to forgive me."

I vow I have never felt so miserably guilty towards any human being as
I did at that moment. I have never felt