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Thelma doesn't
care a bit about this piece, I know, and if you are not very much
absorbed--"
Lady Winsleigh rose instantly, with her usual ready grace.
"My dear Sir Philip!" she said sweetly. "As if I would not, do anything
to oblige you! Let us go by all means! These burlesques _are_ extremely
fatiguing!"
He seemed relieved by her acquiescence--and smiled that rare sweet smile
of his, which had once played such havoc with her ladyship's sensitive
feelings. They left the theatre, and were soon on their way home, though
Thelma was rather silent during the drive. They dropped Lady Winsleigh
at her own door, and after they had bidden her a cordial good night, and
were going on again towards home, Philip, turning towards his wife, and
catching sight of her face by the light of a street-lamp, was struck by
her extreme paleness and weary look.
"You are very tired, my darling, I fear?" he inquired, tenderly
encircling her with one arm. "Lean your head on my shoulder--so!"
She obeyed, and her hand trembled a little as he took and held it in his
own warm, strong clasp.


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