On every
side Sir Timothy had been received with marks of deep respect.
Two bowing attendants were preceding them. Sir Timothy leaned
towards his companion.
"Because," he whispered, "I like animals better than human
beings."
Margaret Hilditch, her chair pushed back into the recesses of the
box, scarcely turned her head at her father's entrance.
"I have brought an acquaintance of yours, Margaret," the latter
announced, as he hung up his hat. "You remember Mr. Ledsam?"
Francis drew a little breath of relief as he bowed over her hand.
For the second time her inordinate composure had been assailed.
She was her usual calm and indifferent self almost immediately,
but the gleam of surprise, and he fancied not unpleasant
surprise, had been unmistakable.
"Are you a devotee, Mr. Ledsam?" she asked.
"I am fond of music," Francis answered, "especially this opera."
She motioned to the chair in the front of the box, facing the
stage.
"You must sit there," she insisted. "I prefer always to remain
here, and my father always likes to face the audience. I really
believe," she went on, "that he likes to catch the eye of the
journalist who writes little gossipy items, and to see his name
in print."
"But you yourself?" Francis ventured.
"I fancy that my reasons for preferring seclusion should be
obvious enough," she replied, a little bitterly.
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