'A queer fish I met at the door, with eyes that looked clean through me, and that little squirt Clott. He is at the bottom of it all.' Clara gave a little moan. 'O-oh! Why does everybody hate Charles so? Everybody betrays him....' 'Oh, come,' said Verschoyle, 'he isn't exactly thoughtful for other people, is he?' 'That doesn't matter. Charles is Charles, and he must and shall succeed.' 'Not if it smashes you.' 'Even if it smashes me.' He took her hands and implored her to be sensible. 'You lovely, lovely child,' he said, 'if Charles can't succeed off his own bat, surely, surely it means that there is something wrong with him. Why should you suffer? Why should you be exposed all your life to taunts and success and insults like that just now? It is all so unnecessary.... I'll go and see Charles. I'll tell him what has happened and that he may be given away at any moment now.' 'But why should they hate Charles?' 'It isn't Charles, darling. It is you they hate. You are too young, too beautiful. These women who have lied and intrigued all their lives can't forgive your frankness.' 'They can't forgive my being friends with you.... Oh! don't talk to me about it any more. I hate it all. So disgusting it is.' 'I want Charles to clear out. He can go to Paris and come back if this blows over.' 'I want him to be here to-morrow night. I want everybody to acknowledge that all this is his work. There's to be a supper to-morrow night after the performance. I want him to be there.' Verschoyle shrugged his shoulders. He knew that opposition only made her more obstinate. 'Very well,' he said, and he returned to the stalls where he made himself exceedingly agreeable to Lady Bracebridge and her daughter, hoping to prevent any further outburst of jealousy. Lady Bracebridge was mollified and said presently,-- 'After all, these things are nobody's affair but their own. I do think the scenery is perfectly delightful, though I can't say it is my idea of Caliban. But Henry is delightful. He reminds me so much of General Booth.' Clara stood free of all this foolish world of scandal and jealousy. She had the answer to it all in herself. Whatever Clara Day had done, Ariel was free and unattainable. She could achieve utter forgetfulness of self, she could be born again in this miraculous experience for which she had striven. As Ariel she could lead these mortals a dance. 'So I charmed their ears, That, calf-like, they my lowing follow'd through Tooth'd briers, sharp furzes, pricking goss and thorns, Which enter'd their frail shins: at last I left them I' the filthy-mantled pool....' The pool of scandal: drowned in their own foul words.