t moment was questioning
him about Cerdine's theatrical situation and her private history. On the
latter point some of her enquiries were of a kind that it is not in
the habit of young girls to make, or even to know how to make; but her
apparent unconsciousness of the fact seemed rather to reflect on her
past associates than on herself.

When the second act was over, Darrow suggested their taking a turn
in the foyer; and seated on one of its cramped red velvet sofas they
watched the crowd surge up and down in a glare of lights and gilding.
Then, as she complained of the heat, he led her through the press to the
congested cafe at the foot of the stairs, where orangeades were thrust
at them between the shoulders of packed consommateurs and Darrow,
lighting a cigarette while she sucked her straw, knew the primitive
complacency of the man at whose companion other men stare.

On a corner of their table lay a smeared copy of a theatrical journal.
It caught Sophy's eye and after poring over the page she looked up with
an excited exclamation.

"They're giving Oedipe tomorrow afternoon at the Francais! I suppose
you've seen it heaps and heaps of times?"

He smiled back at her. "You must see it too. We'll go tomorrow."

She sighed at his suggestion, but without discarding it. "How can I? The
last train for Joigny leaves at four."

"But you don't know yet that your friends will want you."

"I shall know tomorrow early. I asked Mrs. Farlow to telegraph as soon
as she got my letter." A twinge of compunction shot through Darrow. Her
words recalled to him that on their return to the hotel after luncheon
she had given him her letter to post, and that he had never thought of
it again. No doubt it was still in the pocket of the coat he had taken
off when he dressed for dinner. In his perturbation he pushed back his
chair, and the movement made her look up at him.

"What's the matter?"

"Nothing. Only--you know I don't fancy that letter can have caught this
afternoon's post."

"Not caught it? Why not?"

"Why, I'm afraid it will have been too late." He bent his head to light
another cigarette.

She struck her hands together with a gesture which, to his amusement, he
noticed she had caught from Cerdine.

"Oh, dear, I hadn't thought of that! But surely it will reach them in
the morning?"

"Some time in the morning, I suppose. You know the French provincial
post is never in a hurry. I don't believe your letter would have bee