It was a favorable one; and Annie found her way to the stage-door, on her way out, with congratulations ringing in her ears and the knowledge that, as certainly as certainty is possible in theatrical matters, the long weeks of anxious and tedious rehearsal were to be rewarded by a calm and prosperous run of the new piece. At the door she found William dancing about, having been with difficulty restrained by the hall doorkeeper from rushing through the door which led on to the stage. He dragged her arm through his, and in high glee helped her into the hansom, and, as he flung himself in afterward, began at once: “Oh, Annie, you were splendid, you were immense! I didn’t think you could act like that. It wasn’t like acting at all, I’m sure, the way you take that toffee! Oh, well, it was just like life, just like the way you used to go on with me at the Grange! Poor, old Grange! I wonder if I shall ever see it again?” “I used to think of you sometimes at rehearsal, when I came to that bit. Was Harry sitting with you?” “Yes; he nearly went off his head. He kept saying, ‘Isn’t she perfect? Isn’t she lovely?’ And I had to keep him from jumping up two or three times. I think if I hadn’t he would have tried to climb on to the stage to you.” “Dear old boy! How nice of him! I am so glad he was pleased with me.” “Well, I don’t see much merit in that. He couldn’t help being proud of you when all the people about were saying how good you were. If he had been a decent sort of husband, he would have waited himself to take you home, instead of telling me to do so and prancing off himself goodness knows where.” “Didn’t he say where he was going?” “No; he knew better than to tell me, because I should have just given him a bit of my mind about it; but I’ve no doubt he’s gone off to supper with somebody or other,” said William, with rigid disgust. “William, how dare you talk like that? Do you know you are speaking about my husband?” “Oh, yes, of course I know! Why, Annie, you are not really angry, are you?” “Yes, I am--very angry. When the poor fellow has spent a miserable day, and made himself quite ill between his nervousness for me and his grief over the shock he had this morning, you take the first opportunity of abusing him to me, his wife.” “But, Annie, you haven’t grown fond of Harry, have you?” said William, with pity and fear in his voice. “Yes, I have--very fond. I couldn’t help it,” sobbed Annie, apologetically. “He has been so kind to me lately.” “Poor girl!” said “the child,” with compassion. “Never mind; you will soon get over it when he leaves you alone again, and you are full of your success on the stage, and people will crowd round you and compliment you and tell you what a great actress you are, and----” “When he leaves me again? What do you mean?” “Why, he will, Annie--on some excuse or other, he will. He will never stay quietly in London without anything to ride. I know Harry.”