At the end of the First Part, the lights went up.
Elsie turned her shining eyes and rumpled curls towards her escort.
“It is good, isn’t it?” he said, with a critical air.
“Isn’t it good? Have another sweet?”
“Well, thanks, I don’t mind. Are you enjoying yourself, kiddie?”
“Awfully. I like pictures.”
“What about me? Don’t you like me a little bit too, Elsie, for bringing you?” His voice had become low and husky.
Still under the emotional influence of the story, the music, and the relaxation produced by bodily warmth and comfort, she looked at him, and saw, not the common, rather negligible features of sandy-haired Mr. Roberts, but the bold, handsome American hero of the film.
“Of course I like you,” she said softly.
“You won’t forget me when I’ve gone?”