Her arm hung along the chair, the flesh showing through the silk as
soft as a flower. He might take it in his hands and bear it to his
lips and kiss it; he might lean and loll and kiss her. He wondered if
he might dare it; but her air of ladyhood was so marked that it seemed
impossible that she would not resent. He could not quite realise what
her looks and words would be afterwards.

"I do not wish to flatter you, but I think you play beautifully. I do
not mean to say that I have never heard any one play the violin
better--that would be ridiculous. Your playing is full of emotion.
That lovely passage thrilled me; I do not know why, nor can I exactly
explain my feeling--nerves perhaps. Now I come to think of it I am
ashamed. It was the summer evening, the perfume of those flowers; it
was--" Helen fixed her eyes on Frank, as if she would like to say, "It
was you." With a sigh she said: "It was the music." Then as if she
feared she was showing too plainly what was passing in her mind, she
said: "But it is nearly nine o'clock. Perhaps you would like to go to
the theatre, the ticket for the box is on the table. I should not be
more than a few minutes changing my dress. Would you like to go?"

"I don't much mind, just as you like. I heard that the new burlesque
was very amusing."

"Then let us go."

Both regretted their words; and, embarrassed, each waited for the
other to say No, let us stay here, it is far sweeter here. But it was
difficult to draw back now without avowal. Helen had rung for her
maid. She put on a white satin. Her opera cloak was edged with deep
soft fur, and she came into the room putting on her long tan gloves.