s astounded, absolutely astounded. She would not understand. She
had decided that he must go to the musical comedy and nothing else
mattered. His whole future did not matter.

"Oh! Very well, then," Lois said, undisguisedly vexed. "Of course, if
you won't, you won't. But really when two girls _implore_ you like
that.... And we have to leave to-morrow, and everything's upset!... I do
think it's ... However, good night."

"Here! Hold hard a sec. I'll come for an hour or so. What's the number
of the box?"

"Fourteen," said the voice brokenly.

Immediately afterwards she rang off. George was hurt and bewildered. The
girl was incredibly ruthless. She was mad. Why had he yielded? Only a
silly conventional feeling had made him yield. And yet he was a great
scorner of convention. He went upstairs again to the perspective
drawing. He looked at his watch. He might work for half an hour before
leaving to dress. No, he could not. The mood had vanished. The
perspective had slipped into another universe. He could not even pick up
a pen. He despised himself terribly, despairingly, for yielding.

II

In spite of all this he anticipated with pleasure the theatre-party. He
wanted to go; he was glad he was going; the memory of Lois in the
tea-palace excited him. And he could refuse a hearing to his conscience,
and could prevent himself from thinking uncomfortably of the future, as
well as most young men. His secret, unadmitted voluptuous eagerness was
alloyed only by an apprehension that after the scene over the telephone
Lois might be peevish and ungracious. The fear proved to be baseless.

Owing to the imperfections of the club laundry and the erring humanity
of Downs, he arrived late. _The Gay Spark_ had begun. He found a
darkened auditorium and a glowing stage. In the dim box Lois and
Laurencine were sitting in front on gilt chairs. Lucas sat behind
Laurencine, and there was an empty chair behind Lois. Her gesture, her
smile, her glance, as she turned to George and looked up, were touching.
She was delighted to see him; she had the mien of a child who has got
what it wanted and has absolutely forgotten that it ever pouted,
shrieked, and stamped its foot. She was determined to charm her
uttermost. Her eye in the gloom was soft with mysterious invitations.
George looked about the interior of the box; he saw the rich cloaks of
the girls hanging up next to glossy masculine hats, the large mirror on
the wall, and mother-of-pear