“Rex ought to be here by this time,” said Rowden; “look in the boxes on that side and Clifford and I will do the same on this.”
“No need,” cried Elliott, “I see him with a white domino there in the second tier. Look! he’s waving his hand to us and so is the domino.”
“Come along,” said Clifford, pushing his way toward the foyer, “I’ll find them in a moment. Let me see,”—a few minutes later, pausing outside a row of white and gilt doors—“let me see, seventh box, second tier—here we are,” he added, rapping loudly.
Yvonne ran and opened the door.
“Bon soir, Messieurs,” she said, with a demure curtsy.
Clifford gallantly kissed the little glove and then shook hands with Gethryn.
“How is it on the floor?” asked the latter, as Elliott and Rowden came forward to the edge of the box. “I want to take Yvonne out for a turn and perhaps a waltz, if it isn’t too crowded.”
“Oh, it’s pretty rough just now, but it will be better in half an hour,” replied Rowden, barricading the champagne from Clifford.
“We saw you dancing, Mr Clifford,” observed Yvonne, with a wicked glance at him from under her mask.
Clifford blushed.