“Of course I did. Why do you ask in that way?” “Oh--you took me by surprise. Why did you never tell me it affected you so? I thought--I thought--” “What did you think?” “That if you really cared for me you would have--tried again.” “What? Then I was fatally ignorant! I thought that when you said a thing, you meant it.” “I didn't know what I meant until it was too late.” “But is it too late--ah! see, he's getting out of the cab at the Grand Opera House.” They quickly switched the bicycle from the street to the sidewalk, and both dismounted. They were checked at the entrance to the theatre by the appearance of Appleton. He was coming from within the building, and with him were two women, one elderly and unattractive, the other a plump young person with bright blue eyes in a saucy face that had more claim to piquant effrontery than to beauty. She was simply dressed and was all smiles to Appleton. Amy and Haslam quickly turned their backs, thus avoiding recognition, and while they seemed to be looking through the glass front into the vestibule, they overheard the following conversation between the blue-eyed girl and Appleton. “I'm glad you found us at last, Tom. Three acts of grand opera are about enough for me, thanks, and we'd have left sooner if your telegram that you'd be in town to-night hadn't made me expect to see you.” “Well, I've been hunting for you in every open theatre in town where there's grand opera. In your answer to my telegram from the Catskills, you said merely you were going to the opera this evening. You didn't say what opera, but I supposed it was this one, so I bought a ticket as soon as I arrived in town at the down-town office. I got here after the first act, and spent all the second act looking around for you.” “It's strange you didn't see us. We were in the middle of row K, right.” “Well, I missed you, that's all, and I kept a watch on the lobby after the act, thinking you'd perhaps come out between the acts. Then I went to the Park Theatre, and then to the Girard Avenue.” Amy and Haslam went into the vestibule. Amy was crimson with anger. Haslam quietly said: “Do you wish to continue the pursuit?” Before she found time to answer, another matter distracted her attention. “Look! There's Mary, the housemaid, who was to stay up for me till I got home. She has come here for me.” The servant stood by the door leading into the lobby, in a position enabling her to scan the faces of people coming out from the auditorium. “Oh, Miss Amy, are you here? I was waiting for you to come out. Here's a telegram that came about a half-hour ago. I thought it might be important.” Amy tore open the envelope. “Why,” she said to Haslam, “this was sent to-day from Philadelphia to me at the Catskills, and my cousins have had it repeated back to me. And look--it's signed by you.” “I surely didn't send it.” But there was the name beyond doubt, “Henry Haslam, M.D.”