"He's all right again," said the man, and he squeezed his wife's arm, and nudged her nervously.
"John, don't!" And the woman glanced at the woman next to her, as if that individual might care what cooing these old doves indulged in.
This other woman wore a half-veil, one of those vizors with which women hide their beauty or their freckles from the gaze of the curious. Not seeing her face, one cannot say what was transpiring behind the veil; but the veil shook as if some convulsive emotion might be working itself out, or struggling to keep itself in.
When Downs left the stage Vox hugged him as a bear would her cub. "Come," said he, "let's go out in the room and talk to the Silvers."
"The Silvers here!" exclaimed Downs, in consternation.
"They were here, but I believe they have left. Yes, their seats are empty. Now that's too bad."
"No wonder they left when they saw me on the stage. Vox, you know that they know all about me. They would kick me off their doorstep if I were a beggar. You've disgraced yourself by bringing me here, as I told you you would. The Silvers, of all the people in the world! I wouldn't have sung if I had suspected their being here."
"Well, you did sing. Thank God for it, too," replied his friend.
The next Sunday night at the hobnob Vox tried to make a report to the doctor of the progress of his protégé.
"Oh, he sang magnificently! I tell you, that man is reinstated in this community. Do you know, doctor, the Silvers were both there?"