some perplexity.
A question to Conway explained the reason why she was puzzled.

'How did you know that I asked Mr. Drake to Beaufort Gardens?' she asked.

'I was present when Mallinson asked him to go.'

'Mr. Mallinson asked him!' she exclaimed, dropping her fan in her
surprise. 'Why, I thought--' She saw the confusion in Mallinson's face
and checked herself suddenly with a little laugh of pure enjoyment. Her
companion's jealousy was more heroical than she had given him credit for;
it had induced him to lie.

To cover his discomfiture Mallinson dived for the fan.

'Oh, don't trouble,' she said, sympathy shaping the words into a
positive entreaty. 'You are _so_ short-sighted, you know. Then you will
bring Mr. Drake,' she turned to Conway as he rose and moved towards the
door. Mr. Le Mesurier had resumed his conversation with Fielding, and
beyond a slight movement of impatience, he gave no sign that he had
heard the words.

'After the next act,' said Conway, and he went out.

Mallinson picked up the fan and laid it upon the ledge of the box.

'I lied to you that evening,' he whispered in a low faltering tone. 'I
have no excuse--Can't you guess why I lied?'

There was a feeling behind the words, genuine by the ring of it, and to
feeling Clarice was by nature responsive. Mallinson saw the mischief die
out of her face, the eyelids droop until the lashes touched the cheek.
Then she raised them again, tenderness flowered in her eyes.

'Perhaps,' she said.

She turned from him and watched Conway making his way along the row of
stalls. Drake was already in his seat.

'Then why didn't Mr. Drake come if you asked him?' she said with a quick
change of tone.

'He gave no reason beyond that it was his first night in London.'

Miss Le Mesurier looked again at Drake. His indifference irritated her
and in a measure interested her in spite of herself. She was not used to
indifference, and felt a need to apologise for it to herself. 'Of
course,' she reflected, 'he had not seen me then,' and so was reinstated
in her self-esteem. The explanation, however, failed her the next
moment. For Drake, at all events, had seen her now; she had caught him
looking up into the box before Conway left. Yet when Conway communicated
his news, Drake never so much as moved his head in her direction. The
three blows of the mallet had just sounded from behind the curtain and
he sat upright in his seat, his face fixed towards the stage. Clarice