Their destination was a brilliantly illumined palace on F Street, once
a choice little playhouse, now given over to screen productions. The
house was packed, and Jean and her father, following the flashlight of
the usher, found harbor finally in a box to the left of the stage.
Derry settled himself behind them. He was an eavesdropper and he knew
it, but he was loath to get out of the range of that lovely laughter.

Yet observing the closeness of their companionship he felt himself
lonely--they seemed so satisfied to be together--so sufficient without
any other. Once Dr. McKenzie got up and went out. When he came back
he brought a box of candy. Derry heard Jean's "Oh, you darling--" and
thrilled with a touch of jealousy.

He wondered a little that he should care--his experiences with women
had heretofore formed gay incidents in his life rather than serious
epochs. He had carried in his heart a vision, and the girl in the Toy
Shop had seemed to make that vision suddenly real.

The play which was thrown on the screen had to do with France; with
Joan of Arc and the lover who failed her, with the reincarnation of the
lover and his opportunity, after long years, to redeem himself from the
blot of cowardice.

In the stillness, Derry heard the quick-drawn breath of the girl in
front of him. "Daddy, I should hate a man like that."

"But, my dear--"

"I should hate him, Daddy."