you, my dear."

"Don't! It's impertinent."

Worse than either, Eleanor knew it was useless. Her motor was waiting
for her and she went away. For the first time she understood something
that Dorset had once said to her--that Lydia in her evil moods was the
most pathetic figure in the world.

CHAPTER XVIII

Before the lights went up on the first entr'acte Lydia retreated to the
little red-lined box of an anteroom and sank down on the red-silk sofa.
She and Miss Bennett had come alone to the opera; but Dorset and Albee,
who was committed to some sort of political dinner first, were to join
them presently.

Even while the house was still in darkness Lydia had recognized the
outline of O'Bannon's head in a box across the house. She had seen it
before she had seen Eleanor. Miss Bennett had stayed in the front of the
box. Lydia was glad she had. She wanted to be alone while she waited.
She could see her between the curtains, sweeping the house with her
opera glasses.

The door of the box opened and Albee came in. She did not speak, but
looking up at him every muscle in her body grew tense with interest. He
smiled at her and began to hang up his hat and take off his coat. She
couldn't bear the suspense.

"Well?" she asked sternly.

"It's all right. The governor will sign it. It's only been pressure of
business----"

She interrupted him.

"And the other thing? Have you failed there?" Somehow she had never
thought of his failing. What should she do if he had?

He made a quick pass with his right hand, indicating that O'Bannon had
been obliterated.

"Our friend will never be a partner in that firm," he said.

He looked at her eagerly and got his reward. She smiled at him, slowly
wagging her head at the same time, as if he were too wonderful for
words.

"Stephen, you are superb," she said, and evidently felt it. "Does he
know it yet?"

"No, he won't know it until he opens his mail to-morrow morning."

Lydia leaned forward and peered out into the house between the curtains.
Then she turned back and smiled again, but this time with amusement.

"He's over there now with Eleanor, pleased to death with himself and
thinking the world is his oyster."

Albee had been standing. Now as the lights began to sink for the opening
of the second act he gave an exclamation of annoyance.

"I have something to show you," he said. He sat down beside her on the
narrow little sofa, and lowering his voice to fit the low