But Desboro had already stepped out to the box, and his keen, amused eyes very soon discovered the levelled glasses of Mrs. Hammerton.
"Come here, Elena!"
"Had I better?"
"Certainly. I want her to see you. That's it! That's enough. She won't say a word about you now."
Mrs. Clydesdale shrank back into the dim, rosy half-light of the box; Desboro looked down at Mrs. Hammerton and smiled; then rejoined his flushed companion.
"Don't worry; Aunt Hannah's fangs are extracted for this evening. Elena, you are looking pretty enough to endanger the record of an aged saint! There goes that meaningless overture! What is it you have to say to me?"
"Why are you so brusque with me, Jim?"
"I'm not. But I don't want the Barkleys and their guests to find us here together."
"Betty knows I care for you——"
"Oh, Lord!" he said impatiently. "You always did care for anything that is just out of reach when you stand on tip-toe. You always were that way, Elena. When we were free to see each other you would have none of me."