For there were particular reasons why he, of all men, had no business to look twice at any woman whose name was Woffington.
That night he avoided the green-room, though he could not forego the play; but the next night he determined to stay at home altogether.
Accordingly, at five o'clock, the astounded box-keeper wore a visage of dismay--there was no shilling for him! and Mr.Vane's nightly shilling had assumed the sanctity of salary in his mind.
Mr.Vane strolled disconsolate; he strolled by the Thames, he strolled up and down the Strand; and, finally, having often admired the wisdom of moths in their gradual approach to what is not good for them, he strolled into the green-room, Covent Garden, and sat down.

When there he did not feel happy.

Besides, she had always been cold to him, and had given no sign of desiring his acquaintance, still less of recognition.
Mr.Vane had often seen a weathercock at work, and he had heard a woman compared to it; but he had never realized the simplicity, beauty and justice of the simile.

He was therefore surprised, as well as thrilled, when Mrs.Woffington, so cool, ceremonious and distant hitherto, walked up to him in the green-room with a face quite wreathed in smiles, and, without preliminary, thanked him for all the beautiful flowers he had sent her.
"What, Mrs.Woffington--what, you recognize me ?" "Of course, and have been foolish enough to feel quite supported by the thought I had at least one friend in the house.

But," said she, looking down, "now you must not be angry; here are some stones that have fallen somehow among the flowers.