The audience drew a little breath and then applauded; the orchestra struck up and a buzz of conversation began.
It was then that Ernestine first noticed how absorbed the man at her side had become.

His hands were gripping the arms of the stall, his eyes were fixed upon the spot somewhere behind the curtain where this sudden little drama had been played out, as though indeed they could pierce the heavy upholstery and see beyond into the room where the very air seemed quivering still with the vehemence of the woman's outpoured scorn.
Ernestine spoke to him at last, the sound of her voice brought him back with a start to the present.
"You like it ?" "The latter part," he answered.

"What a sudden change! At first I thought it rubbish, afterwards it was wonderful!" "Hubert is a fine actor," she remarked, fanning herself.

"It was his first opportunity in the play, and he certainly took advantage of it." He turned deliberately round in his seat towards her, and she was struck with the forceful eagerness of his dark, set face.
"The man," he whispered hoarsely, "sinned for the love of the woman.
Was he right?
Would a woman forgive a man who deceived her for her own sake--when she knew ?" Ernestine held up her programme and studied it deeply.
"I cannot tell," she said, "it depends." Trent drew a little breath and turned away.

A quiet voice from his other side whispered in his ear--"The woman would forgive if she cared for the man." * * * * * Trent turned sharply and the light died out of his voice.