Craven took the chair between the two women. As he did so he glanced at Miss Van Tuyn. His chair was certainly nearer to hers than to Lady Sellingworth’s, much nearer. Syng had sat in it and must have moved it. As she half turned and said something to Craven her bare silky arm touched his sleeve, and their faces were very near together. Her eyes spoke to him definitely, called him to be young again with her. And as the curtain went up she whispered: “It was I who insisted on a party of four to-night.” Lady Sellingworth and Braybrooke were talking together, and Craven answered: “To Mr. Braybrooke?” “Yes; so that we might have a nice little time. And Adela and he are old friends and contemporaries! I knew they would be happy together.” Craven shrank inwardly as he heard Miss Van Tuyn say “Adela,” but he only nodded and tried to return adequately the expression in her eyes. Then he looked across the theatre, and saw Mrs. Ackroyde speaking to Lady Wrackley. After a moment they both gazed at him, and, seeing his eyes fixed on her, Lady Wrackley let go her smile at him and made a little gesture with her hand. “She knows too--damn her!” thought Craven, impolitely. He set his teeth. “They know everything, these women! It’s useless to try to have the smallest secret from them!” And then he said to himself what so many have said: “What does it matter what they know, what they think, what they say? I don’t care!” But he did care. He hated their knowing of his friendship with Lady Sellingworth, and it seemed to him that they were scattering dust all over the dew of his feeling. The second act of the play was more interesting than the first, but, as Miss Van Tuyn said, the whole thing was rather a clever character study than a solidly constructed and elaborately worked out play. It was the fascination of Moscovitch which held the audience tight and which brought thunders of applause when the curtain fell. “If that man acted in French he could have enormous success in Paris,” said Miss Van Tuyn. “You have chosen well,” she added, turning to Braybrooke. “You have introduced us to a great temperament.” Braybrooke was delighted, and still more delighted when Lady Sellingworth and Craven both said that it was the best acting they had seen in London for years. “But it comes out of Russia, I suppose,” said Lady Sellingworth. “Poor, wonderful, horrible, glorious Russia!” “Forgive me for a moment,” said Braybrooke. “Lady Wrackley seems to want me.” Indeed, the electric-light smile was being turned on and off in the box opposite with unmistakable intention, and, glancing across, Craven noticed that the young men had disappeared, no doubt to smoke cigarettes in the foyer. Lady Wrackley and Mrs. Ackroyde were alone, and, seeing them alone, it was easier to Craven to compare their appearance with Lady Sellingworth’s.