"
The curtain had gone up and the last act of the opera had
commenced. She leaned back in her chair. Without a word or even
a gesture, he understood that a curtain had been let down between
them. He obeyed her unspoken wish and relapsed into silence.
Her very absorption, after all, was a hopeful sign. She would
have him believe that she felt nothing, that she was living
outside all the passion and sentiment of life. Yet she was
absorbed in the music .... Sir Timothy came back and seated
himself silently. It was not until the tumult of applause which
broke out after the great song of the French ouvrier, that a word
passed between them.
"Cavalisti is better," Sir Timothy commented. "This man has not
the breadth of passion. At times he is merely peevish."
She shook her head.
"Cavalisti would be too egotistical for the part," she said
quietly. "It is difficult."
Not another word was spoken until the curtain fell. Francis
lingered for a moment over the arrangement of her cloak. Sir
Timothy was already outside, talking to some acquaintances.
"It has been a great pleasure to see you like this unexpectedly,"
he said, a little wistfully.
"I cannot imagine why," she answered, with an undernote of
trouble in her tone. "Remember the advice I gave you before.
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