The women present were mostly
young--many of them mere girls, and there was a great deal of talking
and bantering going on between them and the young men.

Those in the gallery were evidently of the poorer class, and they
accompanied the chorus of the song with a vigorous stamping of feet and
whistling accompaniment. When Mademoiselle Frivol had concluded her
performance with a little dance which brought down the house, there was
a short interval, and presently some young men sauntered up to the three
girls, and bade them good-evening in an easy, familiar way, which made
the colour leap to the cheek of Gladys, though she did not know why. She
knew nothing about young men, and had no experience to enable her to
discern the fine shades of their demeanour towards women; but that
innate delicacy which is the safeguard and the unfailing monitor of
every woman until she wilfully throws it away for ever, told the
pure-minded girl that something was amiss, and that it was no place for
her.

'Who's your chum, old girl?' asked a gorgeous youth, who wore an
imitation diamond breastpin and finger-ring. 'Give us an introduction,
Miss Hepburn.'

He did not remove his cigar, but looked down upon the pale face of
Gladys with a kind of familiar approval which hurt her, and made her
long to flee from the place.

'No; shut up, an' let her a-be,' answered Liz tartly. 'Hae ye a
programme?'

'Yes, but you don't deserve it for being so shabby,' said the gorgeous
youth, putting on a double eyeglass, and still honouring Gladys with his
attention.

'I hope you will enjoy the performance, miss,' he added. 'Did you hear
Frivol's song? It was very clever, quite the hit of the evening.'

Gladys never opened her mouth. When she afterwards looked back on that
experience, she wondered how she had been able to preserve her calm,
cold unconcern, which very soon convinced the youth that his advances
were not welcome. Liz looked round at her, and, noting the proud,
contemptuous curl of the girl's sweet lips, laughed up in his face.

'It's no go, Mr. Sinclair. Let's see that programme, an' dinna be mean.'

But the discomfited Mr. Sinclair, in no little chagrin, departed as
rudely as he came.

'Ye dinna want a gentleman lover, Gladys,' whispered Liz. 'He's struck,
onybody can see that, an' he's in business for himsel'. I'm sure he's
masher enough for you. Wull I gie him the hint to come back?'

'I'm going home, Liz. This is no place for me, no