Where was Lola? Why had she forsaken me? What remedy, in
the fiend's name, was there for this heart torture within me? The most
excruciating agonies of the little pain inside were child's play to
this. I bit my lips so as not to groan aloud and contorted my features
into the semblance of a smile.
During a momentary interval there came a knock at the box door. I said,
"Come in!" The door opened, and there, to my utter amazement, stood
Dale Kynnersley--Dale, sleek, alert, smiling, attired in the very latest
nicety of evening dress affected by contemporary youth--Dale such as I
knew and loved but six months ago.
He came forward to Agatha, who was little less astounded than myself.
"How d'ye do, Lady Durrell? I'm in the stalls with Harry Essendale. I
tried to catch your eye, but couldn't. So I thought I'd come up." He
turned to me with frank outstretched hand, "How do, Simon?"
I grasped his hand and murmured something unintelligible. The thing
was so extraordinary, so unexpected that my wits went wandering.
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