When you made your exit, capped and jacketed and travelling-bag in hand, it seemed I could not possibly stay and finish my lines.

And when the door slammed and you were gone, the only thing that saved me was the curtain.

It brought me to myself, or else I would have rushed after you in the face of the audience." "It is strange how a simulated part may react upon one," Frona speculated.
"Or rather ?" St.Vincent suggested.
Frona made no answer, and they walked on without speech.

She was still under the spell of the evening, and the exaltation which had come to her as Nora had not yet departed.

Besides, she read between the lines of St.Vincent's conversation, and was oppressed by the timidity which comes over woman when she faces man on the verge of the greater intimacy.
It was a clear, cold night, not over-cold,--not more than forty below,--and the land was bathed in a soft, diffused flood of light which found its source not in the stars, nor yet in the moon, which was somewhere over on the other side of the world.