Then followed the wonderful evening. Philip found Beatrice alone in the stage box when he returned from taking Elizabeth to her dressing-room.
"Where's Martha?" he asked.
"Faithless," Beatrice replied. "She is in the stalls down there with a young man from the box office. She said you'd understand."
"A serious affair?" Philip ventured.
Beatrice nodded.
"They are engaged. I had tea with them yesterday."
"We shall have to do something for you, Beatrice, soon," he remarked cheerfully.
A very rare gravity settled for a moment upon her face.
"I wonder, Philip," she said simply. "I thought, a little time ago, it would be easy enough to care for the right sort of person. Perhaps I am not really quite so rotten as I thought I was. Here comes Elizabeth. Let's watch her."
They both leaned a little forward in the box, Philip in a state of beatific wonder, which turned soon to amazement when, at Elizabeth's first appearance, the house suddenly rose, and a torrent of applause broke out from the floor to the ceiling. Elizabeth for a moment seemed dumbfounded. The fact that the news of what had happened that afternoon could so soon have become public property had not occurred to either her or Philip. Then a sudden smile of comprehension broke across her face. With understanding, however, came a momentary embarrassment. She looked a little pathetically at the great audience, then laughed and glanced at Philip,
