The overture at length ended. The stage was disclosed, and a man came
forward with a smirk, and a wriggle of gigantic feet, to sing a song.
But Cuckoo Bright, Valentine, and Julian, from their balloon-car, still
surveyed the world. Cuckoo had heard the man before. She was no stranger
to the upper regions of the Empire, but the fascination of knowing
herself watched and commented on from the stalls was a new experience,
and she wished to make the most of it. Forgetting that she was not
painted and powdered, she stretched herself into view and believed she
was creating a sensation. So absorbed was she in the grand effort of
being seen, that when Valentine drew his chair a little closer to her
she did not notice it. One of her hands lay on her lap, the other being
on the ledge of the box supporting her chin. She returned eagerly the
glances of the stalls. The hand that was in her lap felt another hand
close on it. Instinctively Cuckoo turned towards Julian, ready to smile.
But Julian was gazing absorbed at the crowd, and half abstractedly
listening to the song of the man in the huge, distorted boots. It was
Valentine who held her hand. She tried to draw it away. He merely
tightened his grip on it and continued sitting in silence, not even
looking towards her.
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