corner, said with a show of
kindness--

"You dear little goose! You must get accustomed to this kind of
thing--it takes with the men immensely. Why, even your wonderful Philip
has gone down behind the scenes with Neville--you may be sure of that!"

The startled, pitiful astonishment in the girl's face might have touched
a less callous heart than Lady Winsleigh's,--but her ladyship was
prepared for it and only smiled.

"Gone behind the scenes! To see that dreadful woman!" exclaimed Thelma
in a low pained tone. "Oh no, Clara! He would not do such a thing.
Impossible!"

"Well, my dear, then where is he? He has been gone quite ten minutes.
Look at the stalls--all the men are out of them! I tell you Violet Vere
draws everybody--of the male sex after her! At the end of all her
'scenes' she has a regular reception--for men only--of course! Ladies
not admitted!" And Clara Winsleigh laughed. "Don't look so shocked for
heaven's sake, Thelma,--you don't want your husband to be a regular
nincompoop! He must have his amusements as well as other people. I
believe you want him to be like a baby, tied to your apron-string!
You'll find that an awful mistake,--he'll get tired to death of you,
sweet little Griselda though you are!"

Thelma's face grew very pale, and her hand closed more tightly on the
fan she held.

"You have said that so very, very often lately, Clara!" she murmured.
"You seem so sure that he will get tired--that all men get tired. I do
not think you know Philip--he is not like any other person I have ever
met. And why should he go behind the scenes to such a person as Violet
Vere--"

At that moment the box-door opened with a sharp click, and Errington
entered alone. He looked disturbed and anxious.

"Neville is not well," he said abruptly, addressing his wife. "I've sent
him home. He wouldn't have been able to sit this thing out." And he
glanced half angrily towards the stage--the curtain had just gone up
again and displayed the wondrous Violet Vere still in her "humming-bird"
character, swinging on the branch of a tree and (after the example of
all humming-birds) smoking a cigar with brazen-faced tranquillity.

"I am sorry he is ill," said Thelma gently. "That is why you were so
long away?"

"Was I long?" returned Philip somewhat absently. "I didn't know it. I
went to ask a question behind the scenes."

Lady Winsleigh coughed and glanced at Thelma, whose eyes dropped
instantly.

"I suppose you saw Vio