The great empty arch was but dimly lighted, draughty, odorous, and
gloomy. Beyond the extinguished footlights they could see the curved
enormous cavern of the house, row upon row of empty seats. In the
orchestra box two or three men, one in his coat sleeves, were disputing
over an opera score. High up in the topmost gallery some one was
experimenting with the calcium machine; a fan of light occasionally
swept the house, or a man's profile was silhouetted against a sputter of
blue flame.

Artheris and young Hazzard paced the stage, consulted, and disagreed.
Connie practised a fancy step in a wide circle, her skirt caught up, her
face quite free of self-consciousness. Julia sat on a box, soberly
looking from face to face.

Something had happened to her, she did not yet know what. She was
frightened, yet strangely bold; she experienced delicious chills, yet
her cheeks were on fire. Love of life flooded her whole being in waves;
she was wrapped, lulled, saturated, in a new and dreamy peace.

Julia felt a sudden warm rush of affection for Connie--dear old Con--the
best friend a girl ever had! She looked about the theatre; how she loved
the old "Grand!" Above all possible conditions in life it was wonderful
to be Julia Page, sitting here, the very hub of the world, a being to
love and be loved.

There, at that hour, she came to that second birth all women know; she
was born into that world of drifting sweet odours, blending and
iridescent colours, evasive and enchanting sounds, that is the kingdom
of the heart. Julia did not know why, from this hour on, she was no
longer a little girl, she was no longer dumb and blind and unseeing. But