"You are a king, Cliff—my king," Mollie softly responded.
A minute later they were rolling swiftly up-town, sitting hand in hand and feeling as if an enchanted future lay before them.
The house was filled and brilliant with a first-night audience as they stepped within their box, and many a glass was leveled at the peerlessly beautiful girl and her handsome escort, with expressions of mingled admiration, wonder, and curiosity. As it happened, Philip Wentworth and his mother were located in the box directly opposite, and both gave a start of undisguised surprise as Mollie took her seat, for they recognized her instantly.
"Why, Phil!" exclaimed Mrs. Temple, "she really looks like the old-time Mollie, doesn't she? She still has her diamonds, I see, and I suppose no one here would believe she had ever worn that dress before. I recognize it, however, although I must confess it looks just as fresh as it did when she arrived from Paris. She is downright beautiful, Phil! Oh, dear! I wish they hadn't lost their money. Do you know who that is with her? It seems as if I had seen him before."
"He's that cad Faxon—blast him!" Philip replied, his face flaming with sudden anger and shame.
"Why do you call him that, Phil?—he certainly looks like a gentleman. Oh, by the way, isn't he the young man who worked his own way through Harvard and took the second honor in your class?"
"Yes."
"And he is the one who had that ring of Mollie's. Did you ever find out how he came by it?"
"No." He preferred to lie about it rather than explain Faxon's heroic deed.
"Mercy, Phil, how monosyllabic you are," said Mrs. Temple as she shot a curious sidelong glance at him. "I fully intended to ask Mollie about it when she returned, but I never thought of it. Have you any idea how he became acquainted with Mollie?"