Another than himself seemed interested to know. The handsome Mr. Harford was leaning forward, elbows on knees and chin cupped in hand, his eyes closed, his lips almost touching the beauty spot. Had he given up to the welling wail of Zaza’s attempt to out-sing conventions or was his attention, too, on that tantalizing mark? Whether or no, Pape felt at the moment that he must prevent the imminent contact if he did not live to do anything else in life. He, too, leaned forward. But his eyes did not close. They remained wide open, accurately gauging the distance between a pair of sacrilegious mustached lips and—— Tragedy was temporarily averted or, as it turned out, supplanted. An usher appeared between the curtains; in subdued tones asked for Miss Lauderdale; held up a square, white envelope. Jane arose and passed into the cloak room. Mills Harford followed her. Pape in turn, followed him. Observing the girl closely as she tore open the envelope and read the enclosure, he saw alarm on her face; saw the sudden tension of her figure; saw her lips lengthen into a thin line. “Chauffeur brought it. He is waiting down stairs for an answer,” the usher advised her. “Tell him,” she said, “that I’ll come at once.” The usher bowed and vanished. “Anything wrong, Jane?” Harford asked. “I can’t stay for the last act. Aunt Helene has been—has sent for me.” As if fearful lest he should insist upon knowing the contents of her note, she crumpled it in one hand; with the other reached for a brocaded cape that hung on one side of the mirrored rack; allowed him to anticipate her and lay it about her shoulders. “I’ll go with you,” said he. “No.” She paused in her start toward the corridor and glanced into his face uncertainly. “Tamo is waiting with the car. You must see the opera out. The Farrar probably has thrills and thrills saved for the _finale_.” “Not for me—without you. Of course I’ll go with you, dear.” The ardor of the handsome chap’s last pronouncement seemed to decide her. “Of course you won’t.” She shook his hand from her shoulder as if offended. “You are giving this party. You owe it to the Allens to stay. Explain to Irene and the rest that I——” “At least let me put you into the car.” “No.” Positively, she snapped this time. “I don’t need you. I don’t want you, to be frank. You’re coming up to the house to supper, all of you. Perhaps then I’ll explain.” “You’ll explain on the way up—now.” Harford looked to have made up his mind; looked angry. He took her elbow rather forcefully and started with her into the corridor. On the sill she stopped and faced him defiantly. “I won’t explain until and unless I wish to. You can’t use that tone with me, Mills, successful as you may have found it with others. Mr. Pape is going to put me into the car.”