Cassandra in her car—her face (oh, artful Jack!) turned away,—awful before the door of Agamemnon; Iphigenia, sleeping, on her way to the sacrifice; Helen, before her husband and Hecuba; Alcestis, returning from the grave, and Deianira with the robe. The old world of beauty and sorrow, austere and lovely in its doom, passed before modern eyes against its background of sky, grove, and palace steps.
"And now," said Valerie, when the lights sprang out for the interval, "now for your introduction to Imogen. They have made her the climax, you see."
"He did, you mean. The young man."
"Yes, Jack arranged it all."
"He's the one you wrote of, of course, who admires her so tremendously."
"He is the one."
"In fact he'll carry her off from you some day, soon, eh?" Sir Basil ventured with satisfaction in his own assurance. He, too, felt that Imogen must be "settled."
"I suppose so," said Valerie. "I couldn't trust her to any one more happily. He understands her and cares for her absolutely."
Sir Basil at this ventured a little further, voicing both satisfaction and anxiety with: "So, then, you'll come back—to—to Surrey."
"Yes, then, I think, I can come back to Surrey," Valerie replied.