They lingered for some time over the fruit and coffee, and when they rose to go Darrow suggested that, if she felt disposed for the play, they were not too late for the second part of the programme at one of the smaller theatres. His mention of the hour recalled Owen to her thoughts. She saw his train rushing southward through the storm, and, in a corner of the swaying compartment, his face, white and indistinct as it had loomed on her in the rainy twilight. It was horrible to be thus perpetually paying for her happiness! Darrow had called for a theatrical journal, and he presently looked up from it to say: “I hear the second play at the Athenee is amusing.” It was on Anna’s lips to acquiesce; but as she was about to speak she wondered if it were not at the Athenee that Owen had seen Darrow with Sophy Viner. She was not sure he had even mentioned the theatre, but the mere possibility was enough to darken her sky. It was hateful to her to think of accompanying Darrow to places where the girl had been with him. She tried to reason away this scruple, she even reminded herself with a bitter irony that whenever she was in Darrow’s arms she was where the girl had been before her--but she could not shake off her superstitious dread of being with him in any of the scenes of the Parisian episode. She replied that she was too tired for the play, and they drove back to her apartment. At the foot of the stairs she half-turned to wish him good night, but he appeared not to notice her gesture and followed her up to her door. “This is ever so much better than the theatre,” he said as they entered the drawing-room. She had crossed the room and was bending over the hearth to light the fire. She knew he was approaching her, and that in a moment he would have drawn the cloak from her shoulders and laid his lips on her neck, just below the gathered-up hair. These privileges were his and, however deferently and tenderly he claimed them, the joyous ease of his manner marked a difference and proclaimed a right. “After the theatre they came home like this,” she thought; and at the same instant she felt his hands on her shoulders and shrank back. “Don’t--oh, don’t!” she cried, drawing her cloak about her. She saw from his astonished stare that her face must be quivering with pain. “Anna! What on earth is the matter?” “Owen knows!” she broke out, with a confused desire to justify herself. Darrow’s countenance changed. “Did he tell you so? What did he say?” “Nothing! I knew it from the things he didn’t say.” “You had a talk with him this afternoon?” “Yes: for a few minutes. I could see he didn’t want me to stay.” She had dropped into a chair, and sat there huddled, still holding her cloak about her shoulders.