For
what a man calls nothing can be the world and all that there is in it to
a woman. Lady Holme knew that she and the American had been enemies since
the moment when the latter had moved with the tiny steps that so oddly
caricatured her own individual walk down the stairs at the Carlton. She
wanted no tiresome reasons; nor did Miss Schley. Robin was right, of
course. He understood women. But then--?
Should she go to the theatre?
The night came and she went. Whether an extraordinary white lace gown,
which arrived from Paris in the morning, and fitted too perfectly for
words, had anything to do with the eventual decision was not known to
anybody but herself.
Boxes are no longer popular in London except at the Opera. The British
Theatre was new, and the management, recognising that people prefer
stalls, had given up all the available space to them, and only left room
for two large boxes, which faced each other on a level with the dress
circle and next the stage. Lord Holme had one. Mrs. Wolfstein had taken
the other.
Miss Schley's personal success in London brought together a rather
special audience. There were some of the usual people who go to first
nights--critics, ladies who describe dresses, fashionable lawyers and
doctors. But there were also numbers of people who are scarcely ever seen
on these occasions, people who may be found in the ground and grand tier
boxes at Covent Garden during the summer season.
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