In the box the conversation turned upon stage management, and
Corthell told how, in "L'Africaine," at the Opera, in Paris, the
entire superstructure of the stage--wings, drops, and backs--turned
when Vasco da Gama put the ship about. Jadwin having criticised the
effect because none of the actors turned with it, was voted a
Philistine by Mrs. Cressler and Corthell. But as he was about to
answer, Mrs. Cressler turned to the artist, passing him her opera
glasses, and asking:

"Who are those people down there in the third row of the
parquet--see, on the middle aisle--the woman is in red. Aren't those
the Gretrys?"

This left Jadwin and Laura out of the conversation, and the
capitalist was quick to seize the chance of talking to her. Soon she
was surprised to notice that he was trying hard to be agreeable, and
before they had exchanged a dozen sentences, he had turned an
awkward compliment. She guessed by his manner that paying attention
to young girls was for him a thing altogether unusual. Intuitively
she divined that she, on this, the very first night of their
acquaintance, had suddenly interested him.

She had had neither opportunity nor inclination to observe him
closely during their interview in the vestibule, but now, as she sat
and listened to him talk, she could not help being a little
attracted. He was a heavy-built man, would have made two of
Corthell, and his hands were large and broad, the hands of a man of
affairs, who knew how to grip, and, above all, how to hang on. Those
broad, strong hands, and keen, calm eyes would enfold and envelop a