In all London there were no two happier girls than Waveney and Mollie Ward that Wednesday evening; nevertheless, Mollie's cup of bliss lacked one ingredient to make it perfect. If only Waveney were there! If she had only known that at that very moment Waveney was peeping at her from the back of the box opposite! "There is my dear Mollie," she whispered, excitedly; then Althea, much perplexed, swept the boxes with her opera-glass. She could not see the girl anywhere; but just opposite them, standing quite alone in the front of a box, there was a young lady in a white silk cloak, and a pink shower bouquet in her hand, and she had the sweetest and most beautiful face that Althea had ever seen. "What a lovely girl!" she said to herself; and she was not surprised to see that opera-glasses from all parts of the house were levelled in that direction; but the next moment she started--for surely she recognized that dark, foreign-looking man who had just entered the box. "Moritz!" she ejaculated. "Good heavens, could that exquisite young creature be Mollie Ward!" and then Althea's colour changed as a slight, fair man joined them, followed by a tall, aristocratic-looking youth with _pince-nez_. "Father and Noel," whispered Waveney, in a voice of suppressed ecstasy; but only Doreen heard her. Althea's lips were white and trembling; the lights were flickering before her eyes; the tuning up of the instruments in the orchestra sounded harsh and discordant. No, she had not expected this!--to find him so unchanged. It was twenty-one years since they had met, and yet it seemed to her that it was the same Everard Ward whom she remembered so well; he even wore the same white stephanotis in his coat. He was a little older, perhaps, a trifle thinner, but it was the same perfect face. Distance and the electric light softened down defects. Althea could not see how shiny and worn Everard's dress-coat was any more than she could see the lines on his forehead and round his eyes, or the threatened baldness; she only noticed that he stood in his old attitude, his head raised, and one hand lightly twirling his moustache. Althea stifled a sigh. Well, she was glad to have seen him again, very glad. When ghosts were troublesome it was well to lay them. And then, though her woman's heart failed her, and she vaguely felt that Doreen had been wiser and more prudent than she, she determined to pluck up spirit and play her little drama to the bitter end.