"Here will I set up my everlasting rest—"
It was over.... She helped Lily with her red evening cloak, she found Miss Bedford's striped silk bag that Laydon could not find; they all passed out of the house of enchantments. Here was the night, and the night wind, and broken lights and carriages, and a clamour of voices, and at last the clanging street-car with a great freight of talking people. She wanted to sit still and dream it over—and fortunately Laydon was again occupied with Miss Bedford.
"You liked it, didn't you?" asked Lily. "I think that you like things that you imagine better than you like things that you do."
Hagar looked at her with eyes that were yet wide and fixed. "I don't know. If you could be and do all that you can imagine—but you can't—you can't—" she smiled and rubbed her hand across her eyes— "and it's a tragedy."
When they left the street-car and walked toward the Eglantine gates, it was drawing toward midnight. Laydon and Hagar now moved side by side through the darkness. Lily—who said that her head had ached very little, thank you!—exchanged comments on the play with Miss Bedford.
Laydon held the gate open; then, closing it, fell a few feet behind with Hagar. "You enjoyed it?"
"Oh—"
He was again in love. "The plays we'll see together, darling, darling! 'Two souls with but a single thought—'"
"There is no need to walk so fast," said Miss Bedford. "Oh, Mr. Laydon, a briar has caught my skirt—Will you—? Oh, thank you!"