That evening Reg was seized with a fit of melancholy. Now that his revenge was accomplished the inevitable reaction had come. In spite of his conviction that he had done his duty, still his conscience pricked him for wilfully maiming a fellow-creature. He had separated himself from the others and was brooding sadly in the twilight when he was roused by the touch of a small hand being laid on his.
"Don't fret, Mr. Morris," said May, in her gentle, sympathetic way. "Think how you have saved others now from the fate you saved me from."
"You make too much of it, Miss Goodchild."
"No, I can never do that," she answered, simply.
"Ah, here you are. We've been looking for you everywhere," called out Mrs. Whyte, coming upon them.
"I've been trying to console Mr. Morris, mother," said May.
"And she has succeeded, for now I am quite over it," said Reg, lightly.
"Mr. Winter suggested going to the theatre to see that friend of yours."
"That's a splendid idea. We'll go."
They were fortunate enough to get a box, and gave themselves up to an evening's enjoyment. Between the acts Hal and Reg sent their names round to Mrs. Montague, and were immediately received.