And they both laughed and looked at each other, for she had been held by the little golden clasp, the fleur-de-lis.
“You see,” he said, “it will always draw me to you.”
But a shadow fell on her fair face, and she sighed as she gently took his arm.
When they entered their box, Clifford was still tormenting the poor Colonel.
“Old dog thinks I know him,” he grinned, as Yvonne and Rex came in. Yvonne flung off her mask and began to fan herself.
“Time for supper, you know,” suggested Clifford.
Yvonne lay back in her chair, smiling and slowly waving the great plumes to and fro.
“Who are those people in the next box?” she asked him. “They do make such a noise.”
“There are only two, both masked.”
“But they have unmasked now. There are their velvets on the edge of the box. I’m going to take a peep,” she whispered, rising and leaning across the railing.