This time the acerbity in her tone did strike him. Something had gone wrong with her. He bent forward so as to catch a sight of her averted face. “What is the matter, Miss Stevens?” he asked concernedly. “You are not yourself. Could I be of any service to you?” She did not reply. Her silence seemed an encouragement to press his sympathy. It was a new thing to be of help to a human being. He put his fingers on her sleeve and added:-- “Tell me.” She drew away her arm and started to her feet. “Yes, I will tell you. I ’ve been making a miserable little fool of myself. Let’s go back.” Joyce rose and walked by her side. “You are not by any chance embarrassed in money matters?” he asked, in as delicate a tone as he could. “Money!” She looked at him incredulously for a moment, then broke into hysterical laughter. “Money!” she repeated. “Oh, you are too comic for anything!” CHAPTER VI--MELPOMENE Two weeks passed and Joyce found himself in Hull. During the previous week Miss Stevens had lodged quite near to the theatre, and there had been no occasion for his escort after the performance. Besides, she had maintained a distant attitude toward him which precluded further offer of sympathy in her affairs. He was sorry for her; she seemed lonely, like himself, and, like himself, to have some inward suffering that made life bitter. He was glad, then, to find at Hull that they lodged in the same street, some distance away from the Theatre Royal, so that he could propose, as a natural thing, the resumption of their former habit. She had acquiesced readily on the Monday night, and they had met as a matter of course on the four succeeding evenings. Her late aloofness was followed by a more intimate and submissive manner. There were no more defiant utterances and fits of petulance. She seemed anxious to atone for past irritability, and Joyce, vaguely remembering a spring-tide cynicism of his, that one must be astonished at nothing in a woman, received these advances kindly, and looked upon their friendly relations as consolidated. He also found himself progressing in favour with the rest of the company. Several desultory chats with Miss Verrinder, the friend of Yvonne, had not only brightened the dulness of the theatre life, but also given him a little _prestige_ among his colleagues. For there is a good deal of humanity in man, including the chorus of comic opera. So, such as it was, Joyce’s contentment rose to high-level at Hull. He did not couple the town with Hell and Halifax in his litany of supplication, but, on the contrary, found it a not unpleasant place, which, moreover, was in process of undergoing a rare week of sunshine.