That got said, also she managed to smile at him naturally. "That is all, dear Philip," she added. "Pray don't let us talk of it any more." "And you wish me to tell Evelyn what you say?" he asked. "Yes, anything, anything," she said. "I don't want to sit to him again. But make it natural, if you can. Look at the portrait; tell him you don't want it touched any more. Believe me, that is best." She paused a moment. "I am excited and rather overwrought to-night somehow," she said, "and you mustn't indeed think that there is anything the matter. Indeed, there is nothing. Tell me you believe that?" "Why, dear, of course, if you tell me so," he said. "I do tell you so." As has been mentioned before, there were two Philips; one known only to the four people who knew him best, the other the Philip who showed a sterner and harder face to the world. And though, since he was with Madge, the Philip of the inner sanctum, where only the intimates were admitted, was in possession, yet the door of the sanctum, as it were, opened for a moment, and the other Philip, quick as a lizard, glanced in. His appearance was of the most momentary duration, but he did look in. She laid her hand on his arm as she said these last words, then left the back of the box, where they had been standing, and took a chair next Lady Ellington. "How full it is!" she said. "Look at the stalls too; they are like an ant-heap, covered with brilliant, crawling ants. How hard it is to recognise people if one is above them. I'm sure there are a hundred people I know, but the tops of heads are like nothing except the tops of heads. How many bald heads too! What a blessing we don't go bald like men. Who is that walking up the gangway now? I'm sure I know him. Ah! it's Mr. Dundas." The sudden stream of her talk stopped, as if a tap had been turned on. Her eyes left the stalls and gazed vacantly over the boxes opposite. She was conscious of wondering what would happen next--whether she would speak, or her companion, or whether Philip would say something. Then it seemed to her nobody would say anything any more; there was to be this dreadful silence for ever. That possibility, at any rate, was soon averted, for Gladys signalled violently to Evelyn, and spoke. "Yes, he sees us," she said. "Mr. Home, do put the door of the box open, it is so stuffy. And Mr. Dundas I am sure is coming up. He's such a darling, isn't he?" The greater part of her speech was justified by realities. Evelyn had seen them; the heat was undeniable; also, in answer to the violent signalling he had received, mere politeness, to say nothing of inclination, would have made him come. But he had seen too who sat in profile by Lady Ellington, and he took two and three steps in the stride as he mounted the staircases. And before Madge had time to put into execution her very unwise idea of asking Philip not to let him in, he was at the door of the box.