“Charity, doubtless.  Do you know, that after he is fagged out with upholding the Flag from early morning till late eve, he devotes the later eve to gratuitous tuition, lecturing and the like.”

“No,” said Esther, softened.  “I knew he came home late, but I thought he had to report communal meetings.”

“That, too.  But Addie tells me he never came home at all one night last week.  He was sitting up with some wretched dying pauper.”

“He’ll kill himself,” said Esther, anxiously.

“People are right about him.  He is quite hopeless,” said Percy Saville, the solitary guest, tapping his forehead significantly.

“Perhaps it is we who are hopeless,” said Esther, sharply.

“I wish we were all as sensible,” said Mrs. Henry Goldsmith, turning on the unhappy stockbroker with her most superior air.  “Mr. Leon always reminds me of Judas Maccabaeus.”

He shrank before the blaze of her mature beauty, the fulness of her charms revealed by her rich evening dress, her hair radiating strange, subtle perfume.  His eye sought Mr. Goldsmith’s for refuge and consolation.

“That is so,” said Mr. Goldsmith, rubbing his red chin.  “He is an excellent young man.”

“May I trouble you to put on your things at once, Miss Ansell?” said Sidney.  “I have left Addie in the carriage, and we are rather late.  I believe it is usual for ladies to put on ‘things,’ even when in evening dress.  I may mention that there is a bouquet for you in the carriage, and, however unworthy a substitute I may be for Raphael, I may at least claim he would have forgotten to bring you that.”

Esther smiled despite herself as she left the room to get her cloak.  She was chagrined and disappointed, but she resolved not to inflict her ill-humor on her companions.

She had long since got used to carriages, and when they arrived at the theatre, she took her seat in the box without heart-fluttering.  It was an old discovery now that boxes had no connection with oranges nor stalls with costers’ barrows.

The house was brilliant.  The orchestra was playing the overture.

“I wish Mr. Shakspeare would write a new play,” grumbled Sidney.  “All these revivals make him lazy.  Heavens! what his fees must tot up to!  If I were not sustained by the presence of you two girls, I should no more survive the fifth act than most of the characters.  Why don’t they brighten the piece up with ballet-girls?”

“Yes, I suppose you blessed Mr. Leon when you got his telegram,” said Esther.  “What a bore it must be to you to be saddled with his duties!”

“Awful!” admitted Sidney gravely.  “Besides, it interferes with my work.”

“Work?” said Addie.  “You know you only work by sunlight.”

“Yes, that’s the best of my profession—­in England.  It gives you such opportunities of working—­at other professions.”

“Why, what do you work at?” inquired Esther, laughing.