out of poor jokes; the coarse, cheap underclothes (she
used to cry when she put them on, she hated them so).
Years and years of it all; and for that cold, selfish
fop!

His mother saw him leave the box, and knew that he was
coming.

"Oh, good-evening, George!" she said gayly, as he opened
the door. "A wonderful scene, wasn't it? I have always
wished to see Irving in `Hamlet.'"

"This is `Shylock,'" he said gravely, and turned to speak
to the others. They welcomed him eagerly, and made room
for him. He had lost something of the cold, blase air
which had ennobled him in the eyes of the young
women. He looked around presently, and said with a
comfortable shrug:

"It is so pleasant to talk English again! My wife
detests it. We speak only French. I feel like an alien
and outcast among you!" He laughed; his mother glanced
at him curiously. But Lucy turned her face away, afraid
that he should see it. As he talked, George noted the
clear-cut American features of the girls, and their
dainty gowns, with a keen pleasure; then he glanced
quickly at the opposite box.

"Ah!" said Jean to Mr. Perry. "The soiled lace and musk
are beginning to tell! He is tired of Lisa already!"