Somewhere between the ecstasy of the elbow that pressed against hers, and the ecstasy of her child's voice still trilling on the black silence, Lilly was conscious of movement. The gray silhouette marching down the aisle of gloom. A group up about the piano. Another chord struck out. Zoe's voice skipping upward in grace notes. Vague, indeterminate passings of figures through a fluid of unreality, like submarine life behind glass. Then somehow they were out again into the gloom of wings and then on to the white, incredible humdrum of the side street, standing there beside the little door marked "Private," Bruce at her side, rather quivery at the flanges and mopping constantly at the damp rim of his hair. "Lilly, you've won!" She felt sillily inclined to laugh. "I seem to have, don't I?" she said, turning her face under pretense of adjusting her hat, but really for fear that even a smile would induce the threatening laughter which she knew, once let go, would slip up beyond her control. "She's a flute. She's a lark. She's a dream. I--I don't believe I seem to take it in." "Nor--I." Later, Zoe joined them, an air of assumed composure belied by the flaming brilliancy of her eyes and cheeks. "Why didn't you come up afterward?" she said, forcing a commonplace, and to Bruce, "Hail a cab, Pretty-please." He did, helping them in and poking his head in after. "Where?" "Anywhere. Let it be the Park for a while, Lilly?" She nodded. "Is three a crowd?" For answer she drew him in by the sleeve and on the jouncing off of the cab was in her mother's arms, covering her cheeks with close-pressed, audible kisses, and, after the inexplicable manner of women, both of them crying. "He--he didn't say much, Lilly. Kissed my hands. Told me to live beautifully and work endlessly. Asked me if I loved poetry and painting and sunrises and spring--a lot of stuff about the awakening of spring. And kissed my hands again. I'm going back to-morrow. They're discussing things now--he and _maestro_--something about a five-year contract--but a great deal of red tape first--board meeting. I'm to be a secret until next season, _maestro_ cried--and Auchinloss--Lilly, you need never be afraid for me--you hear--you hear--never! We measured each other--he called me wonder-child. Me--Zoe. Lilly--it's happened ... and you--did it. Lilly, kiss me." "You darling. You're like a queen. All the little lives that go into the making of your cloth of gold, yet each proud to be ever so humble a party to it!" "Lilly, you're sad! On _my_ day you're sad." "Glad! You're the meaning of everything. The road had to lead somewhere. Everything is so clear now. You're the lovely meaning, Zoe, behind all the circumstances that went to weave you." Only half plumbed, Zoe sprang from her mood, flashing with all the amazing coquetry that was so new to Lilly, around toward Bruce. "Well--what?" "On the very day I've found you I've lost you." "To whom?" "Fame."