o place like the opera for public devotion. Christine was resplendent in
black and gold with a huge black and gold fan that made the fans of the
temple dancers--the opera was "Aida"--look commonplace and ineffective.

Behind it she now murmured to Max:

"And what poisonous thing did dear Nancy tell you coming down?"

"Nothing--except what everyone has been telling me for the last few
days--that I seemed very much in love."

"And that annoyed you, I suppose."

"On the contrary. I was delighted to find I was such a good actor."

"People who pretend to be asleep sometimes end by actually doing it.
Pretending is rather dangerous sometimes."

"Yes, but you see I shan't have to pretend after to-morrow."

"Are you all packed and ready?"

"Mentally I am."

In the _entr'acte_ which followed quickly after their entrance, Christine
dismissed him very politely. "There," she said, "you don't have to stay
on duty all the time. You can go and stretch your legs, if you want."

He rose at once, and as he did so, Linburne slipped into his place.

Riatt had caught sight of Laura Ussher across the house, and knew his
duty demanded that he should go and say a word to his exuberant cousin
who, he supposed, regarded herself as the artificer of his happiness.

"Oh, my dear Max," she began, hastily bundling out an old friend who had
been reminiscing about the days of the de Rezskes, and waving Riatt into
place, "every one is so delighted at the engagement, and thinks you both
so fortunate. How happy she is, Max! She looks like a different person."

"I thought she looked rather tired this evening," answered Riatt, who
always found himself perverse in face of Laura's enthusiasm.

Mrs. Ussher raised her opera glass and studied Christine's profile, bent
slightly toward Linburne, who was talking with the immobility of feature
which many people use when saying things in public which they don't wish
overheard. "Oh, well, she doesn't look as brilliant as she did when _you_
were with her. But isn't that natural? I wonder why Nancy asked Lee
Linburne and where is that silly little wife of his. Oh, don't go, Max.
It's only the St. Anna attache; we met him on the coast last summer."

But Riatt insisted on making way for the South American diplomat, who was
standing courteously in the back of the box.

He wandered out into the corridors, not enough interested in any of his
recent acquaintances to go and speak to them. Two men coming up behi