e time. But when he
caught me yawning (though I did my best to hide it, for it looked like
being ungrateful for the tickets), then he could restrain himself no
longer. He whispered in my ear:

"You are getting tired of this. And so am I."

"I am trying to like it," I whispered back.

"Don't try," he answered. "Let's talk."

He meant, of course, talk in whispers. We were a good deal
annoyed--especially when the characters were all alone in the
wilderness--by bursts of singing and playing which interrupted us at the
most interesting moments. Philip persevered with a manly firmness. What
could I do but follow his example--at a distance?

He said: "Is it really true that your visit to Mrs. Staveley is coming
to an end?"

I answered: "It comes to an end the day after to-morrow."

"Are you sorry to be leaving your friends in London?"

What I might have said if he had made that inquiry a day earlier, when I
was the most miserable creature living, I would rather not try to guess.
Being quite happy as things were, I could honestly tell him I was sorry.

"You can't possibly be as sorry as I am, Eunice. May I call you by your
pretty name?"

"Yes, if you please."

"Eunice!"

"Yes."

"You will leave a blank in my life when you go away--"

There another chorus stopped him, just as I was eager for more. It was
such a delightfully new sensation to hear a young gentleman telling me
that I had left a blank in his life. The next change in the Oratorio
brought up a young lady, singing alone. Some people behind us grumbled
at the smallness of her voice. We thought her voice perfect. It seemed
to lend itself so nicely to our whispers.

He said: "Will you help me to think of you while you are away? I want
to imagine what your life is at home. Do you live in a town or in the
country?"

I told him the name of our town. When we give a person information, I
have always heard that we ought to make it complete. So I mentioned our
address in the town. But I was troubled by a doubt. Perhaps he preferred
the country. Being anxious about this, I said: "Would you rather have
heard that I live in the country?"

"Live where you may, Eunice, the place will be a favorite place of mine.
Besides, your town is famous. It has a public attraction which brings
visitors to it."

I made another of those mistakes which no sensible girl, in my position,
would have committed. I asked if he alluded to our new market-place.

He set me right in