When the whole party were seated in the box--Miss Beveridge and Betty in the front row, Cynthia and governess number two in the second, and the two "men" at the back--Miles had little attention to spare for the music, so absorbed was he in gazing at Cynthia's delicately-cut profile, and in weaving about her the halo of a young man's first romance. There was no romance in the two girls; they were absorbed in admiration of the wonderful building itself, in enjoyment of the music, and in anxiety to do their duty to dear Mrs Vanburgh's "Govies," as they irreverently termed Miss Beveridge and her companion. Even when on pleasure bent, the former could not be called "responsive." When asked, "Do you like music?" she replied curtly, "No! I teach it!" which reduced the questioner to stupid silence, though her thoughts were active enough. "Oh, indeed! That's one for me, as I am a pupil still! It's the stupidity of pupils which has made her dislike music, but then--why does she come to a concert? Why couldn't she have had the decency to refuse, and let someone else have the ticket? Oh, I do dislike you--you cold,-- cutting, disagreeable, ungrateful, snappy old thing!" Betty sat back in her chair and let her eyes rest on Miss Beveridge's profile, as that lady in her turn stared fixedly at the orchestra. She was wearing quite "a decent little toque," and had taken pains with the arrangement of her hair. Betty was at the stage when she imagined that it was impossible that life could retain any interest after the age of thirty, but it dawned upon her now that, at some far-off, prehistoric period, Miss Beveridge had been handsome--even very handsome, which made her present condition all the more pitiable. Suppose, just suppose for a moment, that one became old and lonely, and poor and plain and snappy, oneself! It was too horrible a prospect to be believed; much more satisfactory to take refuge in the usual rose-coloured dreams! The Royal Box was close at hand--empty, unfortunately, of interesting occupants. How would it feel to be a princess, and loll back in one's chair, conscious of being the cynosure of every eye? Betty lolled, and tried to project herself into the position, pleasingly conscious of a new blouse, quite immaculate suede gloves, and Cynthia's buckle showing its dull blues and reds at the front of her belt. She turned her head slowly from side to side, and cultivated a charming smile.--"Princess Elizabeth appeared in the Royal Box, looking as fascinating as ever in a costume of her favourite grey.--"