There was that to think of; and I did think of it, with dread, and a growing presentiment that I had not suffered yet all I was to suffer.

I determined to send a servant to the Elysee Palace Hotel to enquire for him, and despatched Henri immediately.

Meanwhile, as there was nothing to do, after pretending to eat breakfast under the watchful eyes of Marianne, I pretended also to read the newspaper notices of the play.

But each sentence went out of my head before I had begun the next.

I knew in the end only that, according to all the critics, Maxine de Renzie had "surpassed herself," had been "astonishingly great," had done "what no woman could do unless she threw her whole soul into her part." How little they knew where Maxine de Renzie's soul had been last night! And--only God knew where it might be this night.