To her tremulous pleading he pledged his fealty and when he had taken her into his arms and kissed her they exited slowly. As they passed from sight his voice was heard singing as the curtain fell.
The entire cast paraded in response to the vociferous and long continued applause, and Whitford and Constance bowed their acknowledgments together and singly. Cries of “author” detained Whitford for a speech, in which he chaffed himself and promised that in appreciation of their forbearance in allowing him to present so unworthy a trifle, which derived its only value from the intelligence and talent of his associates, he would never again tax their patience.
As the lights went up Bruce, turning to his companions, saw that Shepherd was staring at the stage as though the players were still visible. Helen, too, noticed the tense look in Shep’s face, and touched him lightly on the arm. He came to with a start and looked about quickly, as if conscious that his deep preoccupation had been observed.
“It was perfectly marvelous, Shep! Connie was never so beautiful, and she did her part wonderfully!”
“Yes; Connie was fine! They were all splendid!” Shep stammered.
“I’ve seen her in plays before, but nothing to match tonight,” said Helen. “You’ll share her congratulations—it’s a big night for the family!”
They had all risen, and Millicent and Bruce added their congratulations—Shep smiling but still a little dazed, his eyes showing that he was thinking back—trying to remember, in the way of one who has passed through an ordeal too swiftly for the memory fully to record it.
“Constance was perfectly adorable!” said Millicent sincerely.
“Yes, yes!” Shep exclaimed. “I had no idea, really. She has acting talent, hasn’t she?”
The question was not perfunctory; he was eager for their assurance that they had been watching a clever piece of acting.