For a moment she looked at her
cavalier in something like amazement. It did not need the red
handkerchief, a corner of which was creeping out from behind his
waistcoat, to convince her that some extraordinary change had taken
place in Burton. He was looking pale and confused, and his quiet
naturalness of manner had altogether disappeared. He came towards her
awkwardly, swinging a pair of white kid gloves in his hand.
"Bit late, aren't you?" he remarked.
"I am afraid I am a few minutes late," she admitted. "Until the last
moment father said he was coming. We shall have to go in very quietly."
"Come along, then," he said. "I don't know the way. I suppose one of
these fellows will tell us."
His inquiry, loud-voiced and not entirely coherent, received at first
scant attention from the usher to whom he addressed himself. They were
directed to their places at last, however. The house was in darkness,
and with the music Edith forgot, for a time, the slight shock which she
had received. The opera was Samson et Dalila, and a very famous tenor
was making his reappearance after a long absence. Edith gave herself up
to complete enjoyment of the music. Then suddenly she was startled by a
yawn at her side.
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