At another time when I was at the opera with them--Mrs.Milsom had invited me to their box--I attempted to point Mr.Paraday out to her in the stalls.

On this she asked her sister to change places with her and, while that lady devoured the great man through a powerful glass, presented, all the rest of the evening, her inspired back to the house.

To torment her tenderly I pressed the glass upon her, telling her how wonderfully near it brought our friend's handsome head.

By way of answer she simply looked at me in charged silence, letting me see that tears had gathered in her eyes.
These tears, I may remark, produced an effect on me of which the end is not yet.

There was a moment when I felt it my duty to mention them to Neil Paraday, but I was deterred by the reflexion that there were questions more relevant to his happiness.
These question indeed, by the end of the season, were reduced to a single one--the question of reconstituting so far as might be possible the conditions under which he had produced his best work.