“Where is the gentleman, Ben?” she asked, steadying herself slightly against a fly.

“First box, Miss; right through that narrow door, yonder,” and the man smiled, supposing he understood.  “Very convenient arrangement for the stage ladies.”

She paused, her hand resting upon the latch, in a final effort to quiet her rapid breathing and gain firmer control over her nerves.  This was to be a struggle for which she must steel herself.  She stepped quietly within, and stood, silent and motionless, amid the shadows of the drawn curtains, gazing directly at the sole occupant of the box, her dark eyes filled with contemptuous defiance.  Farnham lounged in the second chair, leaning back in affected carelessness with one arm resting negligently upon the railing, but there came into his pale face a sudden glow of appreciation as he swept his cool eyes over the trim figure, the flushed countenance there confronting him.  A realization of her fresh womanly fairness came over him with such suddenness as to cause the man to draw his breath quickly, his eyes darkening with passion.

“By thunder, Lizzie, but you are actually developing into quite a beauty!” he exclaimed with almost brutal frankness.  “Life on the stage appears to agree with you; or was it joy at getting rid of me?”

She did not move from where she had taken her first stand against the background of curtains, nor did the expression upon her face change.

“I presume you did not send for me merely for the purpose of compliment,” she remarked, quietly.

“Well, no; not exactly,” and the man laughed with assumed recklessness in an evident effort to appear perfectly at ease.  “I was simply carried away by the enthusiasm of the moment.  I was always, as you will remember, something of a connoisseur regarding the charms of the sex, and you have certainly improved wonderfully.  Why, I actually believe I might fall in love with you again if I were to receive the slightest encouragement.”

“I do not think I am offering you any.”

“Hardly; even my egotism will not permit me to believe so.  An iceberg would seem warm in comparison.  Yet, at least, there is no present occasion for our quarrelling.  Sit down.”

“Thank you, I prefer to remain standing.  I presume whatever you may desire to say will not require much time?”

Farnham leaned forward, decidedly jarred from out his assumed mood of cold sarcasm.  He had expected something different, and his face hardened with definite purpose.

“That depends,” he said soberly, “on your frame of mind.  You do not appear extremely delighted to meet me again.  Considering that it is now fully three years since our last conversation, you might strive to be, at least outwardly, cordial.”

She gathered up her skirts within her left hand, and turned calmly toward the door.

“Is that all?”

The man leaped impulsively to his feet, his cheeks burning with sudden animation, his previous mask of reckless indifference entirely torn away.