The Reef

the next afternoon, Darrow ya

s companion, wondering if she shared hisfeelings. Her rapt profile betrayed no unrest, butpoliteness might have caused her to feig

osphere of the theatre. The players werethe same whom he had often applauded in those very parts,and perhaps that fact added to the impression of stalenessand conventionality produced by thei

springafternoon. The freshness of the face at his side,reflecting the freshness of the season, suggested dapplings

rrow had led MissViner out on the balcony overhanging the square before thetheatre, he turned to see

they made you feel?""Didn't they YOU?...As if the gods were there all thewhile, just behind them, pulling the strings?"

of the actors, that the poetry of the playseemed to have evaporated...But no, he had been right injudging the performance to be dull

thought me too ignorant and stupid to appreciate it?""No; not that." The hand nearest him still lay on therailing o

he said, bending his head alittle

to analyzing her aesthetic emotions, andthe tumultuous rush of the drama seemed to have left her ina state of panting wonder, as thou

me mysterious "luck" which pulled thethreads of her own small destiny. It was not literature toher, it was fact: as actual, as near by, as what washappening to her at the moment and what the next hour heldin store. Seen in this light, the play regai

ve his ownsensations through the medium of hers. But with thecontinuation of the play, and the oppressi

on to the golden prospect of an afternoon at thetheatre. The intervening hours had been disposed of in astroll through the lively streets, and a repast, luxuriouslylingered over, under the chestnut-boughs of a restaurant inthe Champs Elysees. Everything entertained and interestedher, and Darrow

elfof a remarkable variety of opinions. Her questions testifiedto a wholesome and comprehensive human curiosity, and

up--and so would the tiger. Meanwhile, suchexpertness qualified by such candour made it impossible toguess the extent of her personal experience, or to estimateits effect on her charact

andher curiosity ranged from the official temples of the art toits less hallowed haunts. Her searching enquiries about aplay whose production, on one of the latter scenes, had

ry," she had rejoined in a

for drunkenness. The other was adeaf widower with three grown-up daughters, who kept aclock-shop in Bayswater!--Besides," she rambled on, "I'm notso sure that I believe in marriage. You see I'm all forself-development and the chance to live one's life. I'mawfully modern, you know."It was

as on"the story" that her mind was fixed, and in life also, hesuspected, it would always be "the story", rather t

he actual, the immediate, she spreadvibrating strings. When the play was over, an

l?" he

eks and lips were pale, and theloose hair under her hat-brim clung to her forehead i

lmost too much for you!"She sh

nshine. Look, there arehours of daylight left; and see what a night it's going tobe!"He pointed o

e Tuileries she rousedherself. "I must go first to the hotel. There may be amessage--at any rate I must decide on something.

remind her that she could not start forJoigny that evening, and that therefore it was of no momentwhether she received the Farlows' an

ind nothing at the hotel--sowhat

f hadreceived nothing for the lady, but in his abse

wn door andglanced at the empty table. For him at least no message hadcome; and on her threshold, a moment late

e? Have you ever dined there, on theterrace, by moonlight? It's not at all bad. An

g; I haven't a penny to spare myself!"Nothing she could have said could have filled her listenerwith a deeper contrition. He felt the red in his own faceas he recalled the motive with which he had credited her inhis midnight musings. But th

ys had toconsider such things. And I mustn't stay here any longernow--I must try to get a night train for Joigny. Even ifthe Farlows can't take me in, I can go to the hotel: it willcost less than staying here." She paused again and thenexclaimed: "I ought to have though