“Tight lacing,” grunted Blakiston. “Your modern women have no shape, since Cerito.”
Here Haldane rose from his seat. Looking up again, he had met the young lady’s eyes, and had perceived at once that she recognized him.
“I am going to speak to her,” he explained. “She is a neighbour of ours, and a friend of my wife.”
He made his way to the second tier, and finding the door of the box open, he looked in, and saw the person he sought, seated in company with an elderly lady and a young man.
“Miss Dove!” he said, advancing into the box. “Although we have only met twice, I thought I could not be mistaken.” Edith (for it was she) turned quickly and took his outstretched hand..
“How strange to find you here!” she exclaimed. “Is Mrs. Haldane with you?
“No, indeed. I left her to the pious duties of the parish, which she is fulfilling daily, I expect, in company with your seraphic friend the minister.”
Edith looked at him with strange surprise, but said nothing.
“When did you come to town?” he asked. “I thought you were quite a country young lady, and never ventured into the giddy world of London.”
“I was not very well,” replied Edith, “and my aunt invited me to stop with her a few weeks. This is my aunt, Mrs. Hetherington; and this gentleman is my cousin Walter.” Here Edith went somewhat nervously through the ceremony of introduction. She added, with a slight flush, “My cousin insisted on bringing us here to-night. I did not wish to come.”