He did not arrive till after the overture had been played, and the curtain drawn up. Upon presenting himself he was full of apologies for being so behind hand, saying that he had been unavoidably detained at the works.
Laura Stanbridge pouted a little, but accepted his apologies with grace and good humour.
At the close of the first act an animated and pleasant conversation was carried on between the two—the same formula took place during the succeeding intervals in the performance. The gentleman ordered ices and other refreshments for the lady.
When the opera was over, Laura Stanbridge passed out of the stalls with her friend.
“I must get you to fetch a cab, dear,” said she, “for I have come in my opera cloak just as you see me.”
“Certainly, by all means,” returned Gatliffe. “You wait here. I won’t be more than a few seconds.”
He returned, conducted her into the cab, and got into the vehicle himself.
He sat by her side, a little reserved perhaps, but in far better spirits than she had ever seen him.
When they arrived home the supper things had been laid, and the table “groaned,” to make use of a hackneyed phrase, with the best of everything it was possible to procure.
Gatliffe looked surprised.