He sighed. "I'm afraid there's no other word for it. It was rather idiotic of me—I might have known you'd all be hipped."
"Oh, I don't think it's that," she declared; "as a professional man Ted isn't free." She was ever ready to disparage Regina, but she had a soft spot in her shrewdness for Ted. "Of course," she added after a moment, "his going means that I shall have to go too; I can't stay with you by myself, ridiculous as these things are."
"No, I thought of that," he said. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry you're going, Nina. It's no use trying to persuade him, I suppose? If you told him you didn't want to go——"
Every woman is to be touched by oral sentiment, excepting the sentiment of her lover whom she does not love. That irritates her to brutality. Nina wavered:—
"I might," she owned. "Perhaps he could arrange."
"It would be very nice of you," he said; "and really when you get used to Sweetbay, you'll find it has a—a certain charm. Hallo! What's the matter here? Are we too soon?"
They were opposite the theatre, but the building was dark. His heart sank; he felt that the stars in their courses were fighting against him.
"It isn't open," said Nina superfluously.
"We must have come too soon," he urged. "Let's cross over, and see what time it begins."
For a minute or two they peered at the glum frontage, puzzled, and then they descried—affixed by its flap to a large door—a small envelope. It was an official announcement. On the envelope was written, "No concert this evening."