He sat stiff in his, as if the least movement might shake the taxi and make her worse, stealing anxious looks at her from time to time. She didn’t speak again, nor did he. In this way they reached the restaurant, and as he helped her out, his alarmed eyes on her face, she smiled faintly at him and said she thought it was going to be all right. And to herself she said, ‘At dinner I’ll tell him about Virginia.’ VI But she was weak; it was such fun; she couldn’t spoil it; not for this one evening. There were the roses, sisters to the roses in her room, making the table a thing apart and cared for among the flock of tables decorated cynically with a sad daffodil or wrinkled tulip stuck in sprigs of box and fir; and there the welcoming head waiter, himself hovering over the proper serving of dishes which all seemed to be what she chanced to like best, and there sat Christopher opposite her, flushed with happiness and so obviously adoring that the other diners noticed it and sent frequent discreet glances of benevolent and sympathetic interest across to their corner, and nobody seemed to think his attitude was anything but natural, for she couldn’t help seeing that the glances, after dwelling benevolently on him, dwelt with equal benevolence on her. It was too funny. It wouldn’t have been human not to like it; and whatever misconception it was based on, and however certainly it was bound to end, while it lasted it was--well, amusing. On the wall to her left was a long strip of looking-glass, and she caught sight of herself in it. No, she didn’t seem old,--not unsuitably old, even for Christopher; in fact not old at all. It was really rather surprising. When did one begin? True, the rose-coloured lights were very kindly in this restaurant, and besides, she was amused and enjoying herself, and amusement and enjoyment do for the time hide a lot of things in one’s face, she reflected. What would Stephen say if he saw her at this moment? She looked up quickly at Christopher, the thought laughing in her eyes; but meeting his, fixed on her face in adoration, the thought changed to: What would Stephen say if he saw Christopher?--and the laughter became a little uneasy. Well, she couldn’t bother about that to-night; she would take the good the gods were providing. There was always to-morrow, and to-morrow and to-morrow to be dusty and dim in. For the next two hours she was Cinderella at the ball; and afterwards, though there would be the rags, all the rags of all the years, still she would have been at the ball. ‘What are you laughing at?’ asked Christopher, himself one large laugh of joy. ‘I was wondering what Stephen--your friend Stephen--would say if he saw us now.’ ‘Poor old Jack-in-the-Box,’ said Christopher with easy irreverence. ‘I suppose he’d think us worldly.’ She leaned forward. ‘What?’ she asked, her face rippling with a mixture of laughter and dismay, ‘what was it you called him?’