sers-by
along the crowded pavement. He had a sudden fancy that Dane was there,
watching. His heart beat fiercely as he stood, almost transfixed,
scanning eagerly every strange face. Then the bell rang behind him. He
set his teeth and turned away. In less than half an hour the play would
be over. They would be on their way home.

He found the box door open and the box itself, to his surprise, empty.
There was no sign anywhere of Beatrice. He waited for a little time. Then
he rang the bell for the attendant but could hear no news of her. His
uneasiness increased as the curtain at last fell and she had not
returned. He hurried round to the back, but Elizabeth, when he told her,
only smiled.

"Why, there's nothing to worry about, dear," she said. "Beatrice can take
care of herself. Perhaps she thought it more tactful to hurry on home
tonight. She is really just as kind-hearted as she can be, you know,
Philip, underneath all that pent-up, passionate desire for just a small
share of the good things of life. She has wasted so much of herself in
longings. Poor child! I sometimes wonder that she is as level-headed as
she seems to be. Now I am ready."

They passed down the corridor amidst a little chorus of good nights, and
stepped into the automobile which was waiting. As it glided off she
suddenly came closer to him.

"Philip," she whispered, "it's true, isn't it? Put your arms around me.
You are driving me home--say it's true!"

Elizabeth sat up presently, a little dazed. Her fingers were still
gripping Philip's almost fiercely. The automobile had stopped.

"I haven't the least idea where we are," she murmured.

"And I forgot to tell you," he laughed, as he helped her out. "I took the
suite below mine by the week. There are two or three rooms, and an
extra one for Beatrice. Of course, it's small, but then with this London
idea before us--"

"Such extravagance!" she interrupted. "Your own rooms would have done
quite nicely, only it is a luxury to have a place for Phoebe. I hope
Beatrice won't have gone to bed."

"I am sure she won't," he replied. "She has done all the arranging for
me--she and Phoebe together."

They crossed the pavement and entered the lift. The attendant grinned
broadly as he stopped at the eighth floor, and held out his hand for the
tip for which Philip had been fumbling. The door of the suite was opened
before they could reach the bell. Elizabeth's maid, Phoebe, came forward
to take her mistres