aware by
and by of James sitting sedately by her, with the eyeglass sharply set
for diversion anywhere but on the scene. Again she remembered with
secret amusement that she had not been conscious of the eyeglass
when--for reasons of his own--he had paid his mysterious homage to
love and her.

She kept a firm grip of herself: she would not move an inch towards
him. She could never do that again. But she passed him over the
play-bill, and lifted the glasses to show him where they were. She
saw the eyeglass dip as he nodded his thanks, and heard him whisper as
he passed back the bill, "No good. Dark as the grave." Oh,
extraordinary James! She suffered hysterical laughter, but persisted
against it, and succeeded.

When the lights went up she afforded herself a gay welcome of him,
from gleaming, happy and conscious eyes. He met it blandly, smiled
awry and said, "You love it?"

"Oh," she sighed, meaning all that she dared not say, "how I love it!"

James said, "Bravo. I was very punctual, you'll admit." That very
nearly overcame her. But all she said was, "I didn't hear you come
in--or go out."

James looked very vague at that. He was on the point of frowning over
it, but gave it up. It was a Lucyism. He rose and touched his
coat-collar, to feel that it gripped where it should. "Let's see who's
in the house," he said, and searched the boxes. "Royalty, as usual!
That's what I call devotion. Who's that woman in a snow-leopard? Oh,
yes, of course. Hullo. I say, my child, will you excuse me? I've just
seen some people I ought to see. There's lots of time--and I won't be
late." And he was off. A very remarkable lover indeed was James.

Mrs. Nugent waved her hand across the parterre. Francis Lingen knocked
and entered. She could afford that; and presently a couple added
themselves, young married people whom she liked for their poverty,
hopefulness and unaffected pleasure in each other. She made Lingen
acquainted with them, and talked to young Mr. Pierson. He spoke with a
cheer in his voice. "Ripping opera. Madge adores it. We saw your
husband downstairs, but I don't think he knew us."... And through her
head blew the words like a searching wind: "You darling! You darling!"
Oh, that was great love! Small wonder that James saw nothing of the
Piersons. And yet--ah, she must give up speculating and judging.
That had undone poor Psyche. Young Mr. Pierson chattered away about
Madge and Wagner, both ripping; James returned, bland