arm towards the splendid animation of the auditorium.

“But surely, Emmeline,” I cried protestingly, “you didn’t ‘loathe’ that first act. I never heard anything like it. Rosa was simply — well, I can’t describe it.”

She gazed at me, and a cloud of melancholy seemed to come into her eyes. And after a pause she said, in the strangest tone, very quietly:

“You’re in love with her already.”

And her eyes continued to hold mine.

“Who could help it?” I laughed.

She leaned towards me, and her left hand hung over the edge of the box.

“Women like Rosetta Rosa ought to be killed!”