Her dress was of some dark stuff, high necked and long sleeved, with nothing airy or festive about it except the light lace scarf she had knotted around her neck. But there was something about her which attracted him, and he watched her all through the first act, of which he did not hear a word; and saw her evident pleasure in and appreciation of what seemed to him so tiresome. How could she be pleased with that screeching and the talk which no sane people ever talked in real life. Amy and Ruth pretended to be delighted with that sort of thing, but he fancied it was a good deal of pretence, because it was fashionable. And yet this girl evidently liked it, and her face shone and her eyes sparkled, and her dimples came and went, while he looked at her through his glass, bringing her so close to him that he could see how fair she was without powder, such as Amy and his mother kept on their toilet tables. She did not glance at him, but kept her eyes upon the stage, turning but once to the woman beside her, who was nodding in her chair. “Good, sensible old lady! I’d like to go to sleep myself,” he thought, as he saw the laugh on the girl’s face, and the hand she laid on the arm of the sleeping woman, who started up, and, bracing herself stiff and straight, gave her attention to the play until the close of the first act, when there came a diversion which nearly startled Alex. from his seat. “By all the saints, if there isn’t Craig Saltus shaking hands with the duffers, and,—yes,—with the girl, too!” he said, under his breath, as a young man entered the opposite box and, after greeting its occupants, sat down by the girl and began talking to her as if he had known her all his life, while she did not seem in the least elated because one of the most fastidious young men in New York was beside her. Money, family, polished manners and an unspotted reputation,—all belonged to Craig Saltus, who had but one drawback. A fall when a child had resulted in a lameness which debarred him from most of the amusements in which young men delight. He could not ride,—he could not row,—he could not dance,—and at evening entertainments, which he rarely attended, he was obliged either to stand, which was rather painful, if he stood any length of time, or sit beside some dowager listening to her tiresome talk. And yet, cripple as he was, he could have his choice of almost any girl of his acquaintance; and he knew it, but treated them all alike, with a courteous attention which meant nothing. And here he was with these plain people, staying through the second act and looking more at the girl than at the actors, until Alex., forgetting his own delinquencies in that direction, began to be vexed and wonder why, when a fellow came to the opera, he didn’t feel enough interest to pay attention to it, and not be watching an unsophisticated girl to see how she took it.