Worn by her unaccustomed struggle with self, she
finally slept.
Meanwhile, Isabel was the gayest of the gay. The glittering lights of
the playhouse formed a fitting background for her, and Allison watched
her beautiful, changing face with an ever-increasing sense of delight.
The play itself was an old story to him, but the girl was a new
sensation, and while she watched the mimic world beyond the footlights,
he watched her.
The curtain of the first act descended upon a woman, waiting at the
window for a man who did not come, and, most happily, Isabel remembered
the conversation at home in the earlier part of the evening.
"Foolish woman," she said, "to wait at the window."
"Why?" asked Allison, secretly amused.
"I wouldn't wait at the window for an unmarried man, nor for a married
man, either, unless he was my own husband."
"Why?" he asked, again.
"Because men keep best in a cool dry atmosphere. Didn't you know that?"
"How did you happen to discover it, Sweet-and-Twenty?"
Isabel answered with a smile, which meant much or little, as one chose.
Presently she remembered something else that happened to be useful.
Pages:
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152