VIII

It was doubtless owing to Mrs. Fairford’s foresight that such possibilities of tension were curtailed, after dinner, by her carrying off Ralph and his betrothed to the theatre.

Mr. Dagonet, it was understood, always went to bed after an hour’s whist with his daughter; and the silent Mr. Fairford gave his evenings to bridge at his club.  The party, therefore, consisted only of Undine and Ralph, with Mrs. Fairford and her attendant friend.  Undine vaguely wondered why the grave and grey-haired Mr. Bowen formed so invariable a part of that lady’s train; but she concluded that it was the York custom for married ladies to have gentlemen “’round” (as girls had in Apex), and that Mr. Bowen was the sole survivor of Laura Fairford’s earlier triumphs.

She had, however, little time to give to such conjectures, for the performance they were attending—­the debut of a fashionable London actress—­had attracted a large audience in which Undine immediately recognized a number of familiar faces.  Her engagement had been announced only the day before, and she had the delicious sense of being “in all the papers,” and of focussing countless glances of interest and curiosity as she swept through the theatre in Mrs. Fairford’s wake.  Their stalls were near the stage, and progress thither was slow enough to permit of prolonged enjoyment of this sensation.  Before passing to her place she paused for Ralph to remove her cloak, and as he lifted it from her shoulders she heard a lady say behind her:  “There she is—­the one in white, with the lovely back—­” and a man answer:  “Gad!  Where did he find anything as good as that?”

Anonymous approval was sweet enough; but she was to taste a moment more exquisite when, in the proscenium box across the house, she saw Clare Van Degen seated beside the prim figure of Miss Harriet Ray.  “They’re here to see me with him—­they hate it, but they couldn’t keep away!” She turned and lifted a smile of possessorship to Ralph.  Mrs. Fairford seemed also struck by the presence Of the two ladies, and Undine heard her whisper to Mr. Bowen:  “Do you see Clare over there—­and Harriet with her?  Harriet would come—­I call it Spartan!  And so like Clare to ask her!”

Her companion laughed.  “It’s one of the deepest instincts in human nature.  The murdered are as much given as the murderer to haunting the scene of the crime.”

Doubtless guessing Ralph’s desire to have Undine to himself, Mrs. Fairford had sent the girl in first; and Undine, as she seated herself, was aware that the occupant of the next stall half turned to her, as with a vague gesture of recognition.  But just then the curtain rose, and she became absorbed in the development of the drama, especially as it tended to display the remarkable toilets which succeeded each other on the person of its leading lady.  Undine, seated at Ralph Marvell’s side, and feeling