n
delivered this evening in any case." As this idea occurred to him he
felt himself almost absolved.

"Perhaps, then, I ought to have telegraphed?"

"I'll telegraph for you in the morning if you say so."

The bell announcing the close of the entr'-acte shrilled through the
cafe, and she sprang to her feet.

"Oh, come, come! We mustn't miss it!"

Instantly forgetful of the Farlows, she slipped her arm through his and
turned to push her way back to the theatre.

As soon as the curtain went up she as promptly forgot her companion.
Watching her from the corner to which he had returned, Darrow saw that
great waves of sensation were beating deliciously against her brain. It
was as though every starved sensibility were throwing out feelers to the
mounting tide; as though everything she was seeing, hearing, imagining,
rushed in to fill the void of all she had always been denied.

Darrow, as he observed her, again felt a detached enjoyment in her
pleasure. She was an extraordinary conductor of sensation: she seemed to
transmit it physically, in emanations that set the blood dancing in his
veins. He had not often had the opportunity of studying the effects of a
perfectly fresh impression on so responsive a temperament, and he felt a
fleeting desire to make its chords vibrate for his own amusement.

At the end of the next act she discovered with dismay that in their
transit to the cafe she had lost the beautiful pictured programme he
had bought for her. She wanted to go back and hunt for it, but Darrow
assured her that he would have no trouble in getting her another. When
he went out in quest of it she followed him protestingly to the door of
the box, and he saw that she was distressed at the thought of his having
to spend an additional franc for her. This frugality smote Darrow by its
contrast to her natural bright profusion; and again he felt the desire
to right so clumsy an injustice.

When he returned to the box she was still standing in the doorway,
and he noticed that his were not the only eyes attracted to her. Then
another impression sharply diverted his attention. Above the fagged
faces of the Parisian crowd he had caught the fresh fair countenance
of Owen Leath signalling a joyful recognition. The young man, slim and
eager, had detached himself from two companions of his own type, and
was seeking to push through the press to his step-mother's friend. The
encounter, to Darrow, could hardly have been more inoppor