"I hope you haven't been bored?" said Nina at last, holding out half-a-dozen volumes to be carried for her.
"Not in the faintest degree," cried Conrad.
But he was exceedingly bored on the morrow when Ted returned to dinner with elaborate excuses for bringing his visit to a sudden close. Yes, the host was bored then; he knew so well while he responded: "What a nuisance!" and "Of course it can't be helped," that Ted was not in the least needed in town, only dull in Sweetbay. They were all to have gone together to the "Orchestral Concert," and when the barrister alleged that he felt "too worn out," Conrad was not pressing. Nina went with him alone, and they walked some way before they spoke. She understood that he was hurt; dimly she understood that he had shown a stronger affection on his side than they had shown on theirs.
"So the experiment is a failure, Con?" she said.
He sighed. "I'm afraid there's no other word for it. It was rather idiotic of me--I might have known you'd all be hipped."
"Oh, I don't think it's that," she declared; "as a professional man Ted isn't free." She was ever ready to disparage Regina, but she had a soft spot in her shrewdness for Ted. "Of course," she added after a moment, "his going means that I shall have to go too; I can't stay with you by myself, ridiculous as these things are."
"No, I thought of that," he said. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry _you're_ going, Nina. It's no use trying to persuade him, I suppose? If you told him you didn't want to go----"
Every woman is to be touched by oral sentiment, excepting the sentiment of her lover whom she does not love. That irritates her to brutality. Nina wavered:--
"I might," she owned. "Perhaps he could arrange."
"It would be very nice of you," he said; "and really when you get used to Sweetbay, you'll find it has a--a certain charm. Hallo! What's the matter here? Are we too soon?"
They were opposite the theatre, but the building was dark. His heart sank; he felt that the stars in their courses were fighting against him.
"It isn't open," said Nina superfluously.
"We must have come too soon," he urged. "Let's cross over, and see what time it begins."
For a minute or two they peered at the glum frontage, puzzled, and then they descried--affixed by its flap to a large door--a small envelope. It was an official announcement. On the envelope was written, "No concert this evening."