She drew away from him a moment later.
"I did not mean to let you kiss me," she declared naively.
"I meant to if I could," he confessed.
She laughed a little hysterically, but not unhappily.
"Let us pretend that we have behaved like a couple of bad children," she said, "because we must not just now talk of these things. That was just a slip."
"A slip," he repeated.
"A very wonderful, delightful slip," she murmured. "And here we are."
They found themselves soon in a little box, small even for two people. Henriette settled down, almost from the first, to enjoy the performance. She laughed at the whimsical Frenchman, applauded the versatile leading lady, entered with wonderful facility into the spirit of the place. And then, some half-hour after their entrance, Aaron Rodd felt the fingers which he was holding under cover of a programme suddenly twitch. He glanced up. To his amazement, all the joy and light-heartedness had passed from her face. Her features seemed as though they might have been carved out of a piece of ivory. Her lips were a little parted, her eyes filled with fear. She was gazing with strange intensity upon the figure of a girl who, heralded by much applause, had suddenly bounded on to the stage. He leaned towards her.
"Is anything wrong, Henriette?" he asked softly.
She roused herself a little.