with the ladies and saluting Mr. Smithson with a somewhat
supercilious nod. 'Rather surprised to see you and Lesbia here to-night,
Lady Kirkbank. Isn't the Demi-monde rather strong meat for babes, eh?
Not _exactly_ the play one would take a young lady to see.'

'Why should a young lady be forbidden to see a fine play, because there
are some hard and bitter truths told in it?' asked Lady Kirkbank.
'Lesbia sees Madame d'Ange and all her sisterhood in the Park and about
London every day of her life. Why should not she see them on the stage,
and hear their history, and understand how cruel their fate is, and
learn to pity them, if she can? I really think this play is a lesson in
Christian charity; and I should like to see that Oliver man strangled,
though Delaunay plays the part divinely. What a voice! What a manner!
How polished! How perfect! And they tell me he is going to leave the
stage in a year or two. What will the world do without him?'

Maulevrier did not attempt to suggest a solution of this difficulty. He
was watching Mr. Smithson as he leant against the back of Lesbia's chair
and talked to her. The two seemed very familiar, laughingly discussing
the play and the actors. Smithson knew, or pretended to know, all about
the latter. He told Lesbia who made Croizette's gowns--the upholsterer
who furnished that lovely house of hers in the Bois--the sums paid for
her horses, her pictures, her diamonds. It seemed to Lesbia, when she
had heard all, that Croizette was a much-to-be-envied person.

Mr. Smithson had unpublished _bon-mots_ of Dumas at his finger ends; he
knew Daudet, and Sarcey, and Sardou, and seemed to be thoroughly at home
in Parisian artistic society. Lesbia began to think that he would hardly
be so despicable a person as she had at first supposed. No wonder he and
his wealth had turned poor Belle Trinder's head. How could a rural
vicar's daughter, accustomed to poverty, help being dazzled by such
magnificence?

Maulevrier stayed in the box only a short time, and refused Lady
Kirkbank's invitation to supper. She did not urge the point, as she had
surprised one or two very unfriendly glances at Mr. Smithson in
Maulevrier's honest eyes. She did not want an antagonistic brother to
interfere with her plans. She had made up her mind to 'run' Lesbia
according to her own ideas, and any counter influence might be fatal.
So, when Maulevrier said he was due at the Marlborough after the play
she let him go.

'I