"I know it." He released her waist.
She drew a quick, short breath and looked up smiling; then sighed again, and once more her blue eyes became aloof and thoughtful.
He stood leaning against the side of the dressing-room, watching her.
Finally she said with composure: "I must go. Please like what I shall do. It will be done to please you—Jim."
He opened the dressing-room door for her; she entered, turned to look back at him for an instant, then closed the door.
He went back to his place among the audience.
A moment later a temple gong struck three times; the green curtains parted, revealing a white screen, and Mr. Lionel Sissly advancing with a skip to the footlights. The audience looked again at its programme cards and again read:
"No. 1: A Soundless Symphony ... Lionel Sissly."
"Colour," lisped Mr. Sissly, "is not only precious for its own sake, but also because it is the blessed transmogrification of sound. And sound is sacred because all vibrations, audible or inaudible, are in miraculous harmony with that holiest of all phenomena, silence!"
"Help!" whispered Ledyard to Cairns, with resignation.