Richard."

"You should know better," I replied, with some bitterness.

We were talking in low tones, Dolly with her head turned from the stage,
whence the doctor was flinging his impassioned speeches in vain. And
though the light fell not upon her face, I seemed to feel her looking me
through and through.

"You do not care for Patty?" she whispered. And I thought a quiver of
earnestness was in her voice. Her face was so close to mine that her
breath fanned my cheek.

"No," I said. "Why do you ask me? Have I ever been one to make
pretences?"

She turned away.

"But you," I said, bending to her ear, "is it Fitzhugh, Dorothy?"

I heard her laugh softly.

"No," said she, "I thought you might divine, sir."

Was it possible? And yet she had played so much with me that I dared not
risk the fire. She had too many accomplished gallants at her feet to
think of Richard, who had no novelty and no wit. I sat still, barely
conscious of the rising and falling voices beyond the footlights, feeling
only her living presence at my side. She spoke not another word until
the playhouse servants had relighted the chandeliers, and Dr. Courtenay