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And then, at his elbow, there was the rustle of silk; and a beautiful figure, all in black velvet, towered above him, then crowded past him, and sank into the empty seat at his side. He was too startled to speak–and Miss Anita Flagg seemed to understand that and to wish to give him time; for, without regarding him in the least, and as though to establish the fact that she had come to stay, she began calmly and deliberately to remove the bell-like hat. This accomplished, she bent toward him, her eyes looking straight into his, her smile reproaching him. In the familiar tone of an old and dear friend she said to him gently:

“This is the day you planned for me. Don’t you think you’ve wasted quite enough of it?”

Sam looked back into the eyes, and saw in them no trace of laughter or of mockery, but, instead, gentle reproof and appeal–and something else that, in turn, begged of him to be gentle.

For a moment, too disturbed to speak, he looked at her, miserably, remorsefully.

“It’s not Anita Flagg at all,” he said. “It’s Sister Anne come back to life again!” The girl shook her head.

“No; it’s Anita Flagg. I’m not a bit like the girl you thought you met and I did say all the things Holworthy told you I said; but that was before I understood–before I read what you wrote about Sister Anne–about the kind of me you thought you’d met. When I read that I knew what sort of a man you were. I knew you had been really kind and gentle, and I knew you had dug out something that I did not know was there–that no one else had found. And I remembered how you called me Sister. I mean the way you said it. And I wanted to hear it again. I wanted you to say it.”

She lifted her face to his. She was very near him–so near that her shoulder brushed against his arm. In the box above them her friends, scandalized and amused, were watching her with the greatest interest. Half of the people in the now half-empty house were watching them with the greatest interest. To them, between reading advertisements on the programme and watching Anita Flagg making desperate love to a lucky youth in the front row, there was no question of which to choose.

The young people in the front row did not know they were observed. They were alone–as much alone as though they were seated in a biplane, sweeping above the clouds.

“Say it again,” prompted Anita Flagg “Sister.”

“I will not!” returned the young man firmly. “But I’ll say this,” he whispered: “I’ll say you’re the most wonderful, the most beautiful, and the finest woman who has ever lived!”

Anita Flagg’s eyes left his quickly; and, with her head bent, she stared at the bass drum in the orchestra.

“I don’t know,” she said, “but that sounds just as good.”

When the curtain was about to rise she told him to take her back to her box, so that he could meet her friends and go on with them to supper; but when they reached the rear of the house she halted.

“We can see this act,” she said, “or–my car’s in front of the theatre–we might go to the park and take a turn or two or three. Which would you prefer?”

“Don’t make me laugh!” said Sam.

As they sat all together at supper with those of the box party, but paying no attention to them whatsoever, Anita Flagg sighed contentedly.

“There’s only one thing,” she said to Sam, “that is making me unhappy; and because it is such sad news I haven’t told you. It is this: I am leaving America. I am going to spend the winter in London. I sail next Wednesday.”

“My business is to gather news,” said Sam, “but in all my life I never gathered such good news as that.”

“Good news!” exclaimed Anita.

“Because,” explained Sam, “I am leaving, America–am spending the winter in England. I am sailing on Wednesday. No; I also am unhappy; but that is not what makes me unhappy.”

“Tell me,” begged Anita.

“Some day,” said Sam.

The day he chose to tell her was the first day they were at sea–as they leaned upon the rail, watching Fire Island disappear.

“This is my unhappiness,” said Sam–and he pointed to a name on the passenger list. It was: “The Earl of Deptford, and valet.” “And because he is on board!”

Anita Flagg gazed with interest at a pursuing sea-gull.

“He is not on board,” she said. “He changed to another boat.”

Sam felt that by a word from her a great weight might be lifted from his soul. He looked at her appealingly–hungrily.

“Why did he change?” he begged.

Anita Flagg shook her head in wonder. She smiled at him with amused despair.

“Is that all that is worrying you?” she said.