Joan's hands, "it
doesn't pay to tell them, the better they are the more they bring it up
against you. If they don't say anything you can see it in their eyes.
'She has been bad once,' they say, 'she may always be bad again.'"

"Yes," agreed Joan. "It does not pay to tell them, as you say. That is
why I am going to go back to my own shadows alone, because if you love a
person you cannot keep a secret from him."

"But it wouldn't exactly be a secret," Fanny pleaded, "it would just be
something that it was no business of his to know."

Joan laughed. "Your philosophy of life, Fanny, is delightful. But if you
don't hurry up with your dressing you will be late when the call boy
comes."

She had the dressing-room to herself presently, for she did not have to
appear until the second act, and as she sat there, reading over her
part, the call boy put in his head with an impish grin.

"A gentleman left these for you, miss," he held out a large bunch of
violets, "most particular you should get them before you went on, he
was, and he will be round again after the show. Same gentleman," he
winked at her, "as has been here most regular like since the third
night."

"All right, Tommy, thank you," Joan answered. She held out her hands for
the violets. They were very sweet-scented and heavy; she let them fall
on the dressing-table, but after Tommy had vanished, whistling shrilly
along the passage, she bent forward and buried her cheeks and lips in
their fragrance. Her tears smarted in her eyes. This man had grown so
suddenly dear to her that it hurt her almost more than she could bear to
shut him out of her life.

When Fanny danced into the room presently it was to find her standing
before the looking-glass, and against the soft blue of her waistbelt the
violets showed up almost like a stain.

"He's there," Fanny told her, "third from centre in the second row.
Young Swetenham is with him, but none of the women folk, praise be to
heaven. Have you asked him to the supper afterwards?"

"No," Joan admitted, "and, Fanny, if it could possibly be arranged and
Brown would not be very hurt, would it matter if I did not come myself?
I feel so much more like going home to bed."

"Doesn't do to mope," Fanny remonstrated. "Why not bring him along and
have one good evening to finish?"

She studied the other's face. "There," she added impulsively, "if you
don't feel like it you shan't be made to do it. Bother Daddy Brown and
his feelings