“Wingrave!” he exclaimed, and glanced at once at his watch.
“Sir Wingrave Seton,” she murmured. “Isn’t it strange that I should see him here tonight?”
“He comes often,” Aynesworth answered. “Music is one of his few weaknesses.”
There was a movement in the box, and a woman’s head and shoulders appeared from behind the curtain. Juliet gave a little gasp.
“Mr. Aynesworth,” she exclaimed, “did you ever see such a beautiful woman? Do tell me who she is!”
“A very great lady in London society,” Aynesworth answered. “That is Emily, Marchioness of Westchester.”
Juliet’s eyes never moved from her until the beautiful neck and shoulders were turned away. She leaned over towards her companion, and she did not again, for some few minutes, face the house.
“She is the loveliest woman I ever saw in my life,” Juliet said with a little sigh. “Is she a great friend of Sir Wingrave Seton, Mr. Aynesworth?”
“He has no friends,” Aynesworth answered. “I believe that they are very well acquainted.”
“Poor Sir Wingrave!” Juliet murmured softly.