Then the conversation turned on other topics until Tony and Violet took their leave, but when she shook hands with him Hester reminded Tony of his promise. It was, however, almost a month later when he was called upon to keep it and finding no excuse available drove into the neighboring town one evening. He was welcomed somewhat effusively when he entered an ante‐room of the assembly hall, and then taken to a place that had been kept for him beside Violet and her mother. The concert very much resembled others of the kind, and neither Tony nor his companions paid much attention to the music until Mrs. Wayne looked up from her programme. “Thérèse Clavier. Costume dance!” she said. “No doubt they called it that to pacify the vicar. Well, she is pretty, if somewhat elaborately got up. Doesn’t she remind you of somebody, Violet?” Tony glanced at the stage, and gasped. A girl with dark hair in voluminous flimsy draperies came on with a curtsey and a smile, and a little chill ran through him before he heard Violet’s answer. “Lucy Davidson. But of course it can’t be she,” she said. “This woman is older and has darker hair, though that, perhaps, does not count for very much, while Lucy could never have acquired her confidence.” Tony said nothing. He was staring across the rows of heads and watching the girl. She appeared older, bolder, and harder than Lucy Davidson had done, but the likeness was still unpleasantly suggestive. She danced well, but it was not the graceful posing or the swift folding and flowing of light draperies that held Tony’s attention. His eyes were fixed upon the smiling face, and he scarcely heard the thunder of applause or Mrs. Wayne’s voice in the silence that followed it. “Effective, and yet nobody could take exception to it,” she said. “But don’t you come on next, Tony?” Tony, who had not remembered it, stood up suddenly, knocking down the hat of a man beside him, and trod upon the girl’s dress as he passed. She glanced up at him sharply, for he was seldom awkward in his movements, but he was looking another way. The audience was also getting impatient, and there was a clapping of hands and stamping of feet before he appeared upon the stage. Then he sat down fingering his banjo pegs, and twice asked the accompanist for a note on the piano. “Any other man would have done that before,” said Mrs. Wayne. “Still, I suppose Tony cannot help it, and he seems contented now.”