So it was arranged. In the vestibule of the rooms where the dance was held, John was formally introduced to the chaperon before he bore her charge away. Then they stepped into a hansom.
"The Opera," said John, through the trap-door, carelessly, as though he went there most evenings of his life; for when you give your bread and butter to get a box at Covent Garden, hunger makes you talk like that. This is all part of the delight which you miss in having a box all the year round.
And when they had got far away into the traffic--that passing to and fro of people, which is all a thumb-nail illustration of the stream of life--and when her heart had begun to beat a little less like a lark's wings in a six-inch cage, Jill broke the silence.
"What did Mrs. Crossthwaite say to you while I went to get my cloak?" she asked.
"She was good enough to hope that I would call on her."
"Oh! I'm so glad she's asked you. Did she say anything else?"
"She asked me if I lived in London all the year round. I said I did--except for a month in the year, when I went to Venice. Then she asked me what part of London I lived in."
"She asked you that?"
"Yes."
Jill was silent for a few moments. It is always an interesting moment in a woman's life when she learns something about her sex.