"Fifth row," said John.
Violet hadn't got the bearing of Jimmy's question. "Oh, you couldn't mistake her," she said, "any more than you could in this room, now."
"Do you mean," John asked, "that she might have recognized us?"
"They can't," said Violet, "across the footlights,—can they?"
Jimmy nodded. "In a little theater like that," he said, "anywhere in the house. But it seems she didn't recognize you."
"Look here!" said Violet. "Don't you know, in your own mind, just as well as that you're standing there, that that was Rose Aldrich?"
Jimmy dropped down into a big chair. "Well," he said, "I'm willing to accept it as a working hypothesis."
"You men!" said Violet.
Dinner was announced just then, and the theme had to be dismissed until at last they were left alone with the dessert.
"What breaks me all up," Violet burst out, abandoning the pretense of picking over her walnuts, and showing, with a little outflung gesture, how impatient she had been to take it up, "what breaks me all up is how this'll hit Frederica. She just adores Rodney and she's been simply wonderful to Rose—for him, of course."