"I have no idea. You have so many engagements--your aunt is always making new ones. I can do nothing without her permission. Surely you like dancing better than sitting in a theatre?" "No, I do not. Dancing is delightful enough--but to be in a theatre is to be in fairy-land. It is like going into a new world. I leave myself, and my own life, at the doors--and go to live and love and suffer and be glad with the people in the play. To see a powerful play--really well acted--such acting as we have seen--is to live a new life from end to end in a few hours. It is like getting the essence of a lifetime without any of the actual pain--for when the situation is too terrible, one can pinch oneself and say--it is only a dream--an acted dream." "If you like powerful plays--plays that make you tremble and cry--you would not care twopence for 'Cupid and Psyche,'" said Major Bree. "It is something between a burlesque and a fairy comedy--a most frivolous kind of entertainment, I believe." "I don't care how frivolous it is. I have set my heart upon seeing it. I don't want to be out of the fashion. If you won't get me a box at the--where is it?" "The Kaleidoscope Theatre." "At the Kaleidoscope! I shall ask Angus." "Please don't. I--I shall be seriously offended if you do. Let me arrange the business with your aunt. If you really want to see the piece, I suppose you must see it--but not unless your aunt likes." "Dear, dearest, kindest uncle Oliver!" cried Christabel, squeezing his arm. "From my childhood upwards you have always fostered my self-will by the blindest indulgence. I was afraid that, all at once, you were going to be unkind and thwart me." Major Bree was thoughtful and silent for the rest of the afternoon, and although Jessie tried to be as sharp-spoken and vivacious as usual, the effort would have been obvious to any two people properly qualified to observe the actions and expressions of others. But Angus and Christabel, being completely absorbed in each other, saw nothing amiss in their companions. The river and the landscape were divine--a river for gods--a wood for nymphs--altogether too lovely for mortals. Tea, served on a little round table in the hotel garden, was perfect. "How much nicer than the dinner to-night," exclaimed Christabel. "I wish we were not going. And yet, it will be very pleasant, I daresay--a table decorated with the loveliest flowers--well-dressed women, clever men, all talking as if there was not a care in life--and perhaps we shall be next each other," added the happy girl, looking at Angus.