Henriette approved of the table, approved of the dinner, approved of her companion. As for Aaron Rodd, the shadows which sometimes terrified him seemed to have passed far away into the background. He was deaf and dumb to the voices and glances of their neighbours, attracted by his companion's unanalysable elegance, her aristocratic little face with its flawless complexion, her little air--foreign, perhaps, but all the more attractive--of quaint, individual distinction. She wore no ornaments except the pearls which hung from her neck. Her hair, to his untutored eyes, might have been arranged with her own fingers. Her gown, as always, was black, this time of chiffon, and it was not for him to know that its simplicity represented the last word in fashion. He simply found her adorable, and dinner was almost concluded before she uttered a little cry. "Why, we have not yet decided what theatre to go to!" He sent for a messenger. "Do try," she begged, "and get some seats for the _Casino_. I want so much to see the revue." The boy brought them a plan of the theatre, and Aaron secured a small box. Very reluctantly they left their table a short time later. "I have loved my dinner so," she declared, as they sat together in the taxi. "I think that I am getting greedy, everything tasted so good." "And I think that I, too, am greedy," her companion whispered, leaning towards her, "because I want so much--even the greatest thing in the world could have to offer." She suddenly clutched his arm with her white fingers, drew it tightly to her. "Hold my fingers, please," she begged. "Sit just like this. Don't let us spoil anything. Will you be content, please?" He leaned a little towards her. Her eyes were half pleading with his, half doubtful. "I will be content," he promised, "if..." She drew away from him a moment later. "I did not mean to let you kiss me," she declared naively. "I meant to if I could," he confessed. She laughed a little hysterically, but not unhappily. "Let us pretend that we have behaved like a couple of bad children," she said, "because we must not just now talk of these things. That was just a slip." "A slip," he repeated. "A very wonderful, delightful slip," she murmured. "And here we are."