It gave him a moment's bitter pang; but if Kitty was not for him, then
he sincerely hoped Max might win her. Yet he could not have told whether
he was most pleased or angry when he saw Max Raymond coolly negotiate a
change of seats with the gentleman on Kitty's right hand, and take
possession of Kitty's eyes and ears and heart. But there is a great deal
of human nature in man, and Jack behaved, upon the whole, better than
might have been expected.

For once Kitty did not do all the talking. Max talked, and she listened;
Max gave opinions, and she indorsed them; Max decided, and she
submitted. It was not Jack's Kitty at all. He was quite relieved when
she turned round in her old piquant way and snubbed him.

But to Kitty it was a wonderful evening--those grand old Romans walking
on and off the stage, the music playing, the people applauding and the
calm, stately man on her right hand explaining this and that, and
looking into her eyes in such a delicious, perplexing way that past and
present were all mingled like the waving shadows of a wonderful dream.

She was in love's land for about three hours; then she had to come back
into the cold frosty air, the veritable streets, and the unmistakable
stone houses. But it was hardest of all to come back and be the old
radiant, careless Kitty.

"Well, pussy, what of the play?" asked Tom Duffan; "you cut ----'s
criticism short this morning. Now, what is yours?"

"Oh, I don't know papa. The play was Shakespeare's, and Booth and
Barrett backed him up handsomely."