. And
through it all Charmian watched the ugly white face of the red-haired
woman opposite to her, lived imaginatively in that woman's heart and
brain, admired her, almost hated her, longed to be what she was.

Between the acts she saw men pouring into Mrs. Shiffney's box. And every
one was presented to the ugly woman, whose vivacity and animation were
evidently intense, who seemed to demand homage as a matter of course.
Several foreigners kissed her hand. Max Elliot's whole attitude, as he
bent over her, showed adoration and enthusiasm. Even Paul Lane was
smiling, as he drew her attention to a glove split by his energy in
applause.

Heath had spoken of Mrs. Shiffney's message. He was evidently reluctant
to obey it, but Charmian insisted on his going.

"I want to know what Madame Sennier is like. You must ask her if she is
happy, find out how happy she is."

"Charmian, Mr. Heath isn't a mental detective!"

"I speak such atrocious French!" said Heath, looking nervous and
miserable.

"I suppose you can say, '_Chere Madame, j'espere que vous etes bien
contente ce soir_?'"

When Heath had left the box Mrs. Mansfield said gravely to her daughter:

"Charmian!"

"Yes, Madretta."

"I don't think you are behaving very kindly this evening. You scarcely
seem to remember that Mr. Heath is our guest."

"Against his will," she said, in a voice that was almost hard. There was
a hardness, too, in her whole look and manner.

"I think that only makes the hostess's obligation the stronger," said
Mrs. Mansfield. "I don't at all like the Margot manner with men."

"I'm sorry, Madre; but I had no idea I was imitating Margot Drake."

Mrs. Mansfield said no more. Charmian, with flushed cheeks and shining
eyes, turned to look once more at Adelaide Shiffney's box.

In about three minutes she saw Mrs. Shiffney glance behind her. Max
Elliot, who was still with her, got up and opened the door, and Heath
stood in the background. Charmian frowned and pressed her little teeth
on her lower lip. Her body felt stiff with attention, with scrutiny. She
saw Heath come forward, Max Elliot holding him by the arm, and talking
eagerly and smiling. Mrs. Shiffney smiled, too, laughed, gave him her
powerful hand. Now he was being introduced to Madame Sennier, who surely
appraised him with one swift, almost cruelly intelligent glance.

His French! His French! Charmian trembled for it, for him because of it.
If Mrs. Mansfield could have known how