“ ‘It’s a very unusual thing for me to do,’ I said. ‘But I saw you at the top of the stairs, and . . .’
“ ‘I know it’s unusual,’ she interrupted. ‘The man outside there told me your rule. But believe me’—she was talking with more assurance now—‘my reason for coming to see you is very unusual also.’
“I pulled up a chair for her. ‘What is your reason?’ I asked.
“She took a deep breath and began fumbling with her handkerchief.
“ ‘I know you will think me mad,’ she began, ‘but I don’t want to tell you my reason now. I want to wait until after the play is over, and I know you go on at once in the fourth act.’
“ ‘You’ve seen the play, then?’ I remarked.
“ ‘I’ve seen the play,’ was her somewhat astonishing answer, ‘every night since the first.’
“ ‘Every night!’ I stared at her in surprise. ‘But . . .’
“I must have glanced at her clothes or something and she saw what was in my mind.
“ ‘I suppose you think that I hardly look as if I could afford such luxuries,’ she smiled faintly. ‘I’ve only seen it from the gallery and pit, you know. And even that has meant that I’ve had to go without lunch. But—you see—it was necessary for me to see it: I had to. It was part of my plan—a necessary part.’