Their voices were low lest the people in the box should hear them. "You must never do that again," she said. "I'd never have forgiven you if any one had seen us!" "What are you afraid of, Cecily?" he asked. She made a gesture of despair. "Haven't you _any_ sense?" she said. She turned to go towards the box again, but he caught hold of her hand and held her. "Cecily," he whispered, "you know I love you, don't you?" "Yes, yes," she answered impatiently, snatching her hand from his, "but you needn't tell everybody about it!" "And you love me, too. Don't you?" "Let's go and join the others!..." He held her again. "No, Cecily," he said, "you must listen to me!" "Well, what is it?" "Cecily!" He was breathing hard, and it seemed to him that he could only speak by forcing words out of himself. "Cecily ... come with me! ..." "That's what I want to do, but you keep me hanging about here. If any one were to see us!..." "I don't mean that," he interrupted. "You know quite well what I mean!..." "What _do_ you mean? I don't know!..." He went closer to her, trying to waken her passion by the strength of his. "I want you to leave Jimphy and come away with me," he said. "Leave Jimphy!" "Yes. You're not happy ... you're not suited to each other. Come with me!" "Like this?" she said, holding out her hands and mocking him. "That doesn't matter," he urged. "We'll go somewhere...." "Fly to Ireland, I suppose, in evening dress! Poor Paddy, you're so Irish, aren't you? Please don't be an idiot!" She went on towards the door of the box, and he followed after her. "Cecily!" he said. "Not to-night," she answered. "I want to be introduced to that nice girl, Mary Graham, and I really must congratulate Gilbert ... I suppose he's here ... it's such a clever play!" She opened the door of the box and went in, and, hesitating for a moment, he went after her. 4 She stayed in the box, sitting between Mrs. Graham and Mary, until the end of the play. The curtain had gone down to applause and laughter and had been raised again and a third and fourth time, and then the audience had demanded that the author should appear. Somewhere in the gallery, they could hear the faint groan of the man who attends all first nights and groans on principle. "I'd like to punch that chap's jaw!" Ninian muttered, glancing up at the gallery indignantly. There was more applause and a louder and more insistent shout of "Author! Author!" and the curtain went up, and Gilbert, very nervous and very pale, came on to the stage and bowed. Then, after another curtain call, the lights were lowered and the audience began to disperse.