John Steele read carefully this bit of news, and then re-read it; he even found himself guilty of perusing all the other paragraphs; the comings and goings, the fine doings!  They related to a world he had thought little about; a world within the world; just as the people who lived in tunnels and dark passages constituted another world within the world.  Her name danced in illustrious company; here were dukes and earls and viscounts; a sprinkling of the foreign element:  begums, emirs, the nation’s guests.  He saw, also, “Sir Charles, Lady Wray and Miss Wray” among the long list of box-holders for that night at the opera, a gala occasion, commanded by royalty for the entertainment of royalty, and, incidentally, of certain barbarian personages who had come across the seas to be diplomatically coddled and fed.

Folding his newspaper, John Steele turned to his legal papers; strove to replace idleness by industry; but the spirit of work failed to respond.  He looked at his watch, rang sharply a bell.

“Put out my clothes,” he said to the servant who appeared with a lamp, “and have a cab at the door.”

The opera had already begun, but pandemonium still reigned about the box-office, and it was half an hour before John Steele succeeded in reaching the little aperture, with a request for anything that chanced to be left down-stairs.  Armed with a bit of pasteboard, Steele was stopped as he was about to enter.  A thunder of applause from within, indicating that the first act had come to an end, was followed by the usual egress of black and white figures, impatient for cigarettes and light lobby gossip.

“Divine, eh?  The opera, I mean!” A voice accosted John Steele, and, turning, he beheld a familiar face with black whiskers, that of Captain Forsythe.  “This is somewhat different from the morning’s environment?”

“Yes,” said the other.  “But your first question,” with a smile, “I’m afraid I can’t answer.  I’ve just come; and, if I hadn’t—­well, I’m no judge of music.”

“Then you must look as if you were!” laughed the captain frankly.  “Don’t know one jolly note from another, but, for goodness’ sake, don’t betray me.  Just been discussing trills and pizzicatos with Lady Wray.”

For a few moments they continued their talk; chance had made them known to each other some time before, and Captain Forsythe had improved every opportunity to become better acquainted with one for whom he entertained a frank admiration.  Steele’s reserve, however, was not easily penetrated; he accepted and repaid the other’s advances with uniform courtesy but Forsythe could not flatter himself the acquaintance had progressed greatly since their first meeting.