An hour of it left her faint and sick, not with cynical scorn of the spectacle, but with longing and self-pity. The crowd in the dressing-room was thinning now, but, whether she had finished her duty or not, she must escape. She could endure it no longer. Again she made her way down the narrow non-angelic stairs and out at a little side door. The night air was sweet and cold. She paused for a moment under the light of the porte-cochère to watch the string of carriages and the swirl of silk and laces that passed through the opening door, to listen to gusts of music that came to an abrupt end as the outside door shut on her.
Suddenly a figure loomed beside her, and she look up to see Dick Percival, straight and big, with the electric light gleaming on his white shirt-front, where his overcoat fell back. There was an unpleasant sternness in his deeply-shadowed eyes.
"Miss Quincy!" he exclaimed. "What are you doing here!"
"I was sent to report it," said Lena weakly. "I'm going home now."
"What else can I do? It's what the other girls--reporters, I mean--have to do."
"I shall walk home with you," said Dick sharply, and he drew her aside into the shadow, as though ashamed of being seen, and piloted her in silence to the sidewalk. Lena gave a little sob as he drew her arm through his, and still they walked on until the lights of the great house grew dim in the distance and only the quiet of the city streets by night enveloped them.
"Ought you not to go back now? You'll lose all the pleasure," said Lena timidly.
"Are you doing much of this kind of thing?" Dick demanded.
"I hope it will be the last," he answered glumly.
"So do I--I don't like it," whispered Lena.
"I--I can't endure it--Lena!" Lena started as she heard her name. "Lena, come over here into the park for just a moment. I want to talk to you."
"I can't. It's awfully cold, and--" said Lena, but she followed his lead as she remonstrated.
"And you have on a wretched little thin coat. Why aren't you decently dressed?"
"I haven't anything." Lena spoke under her breath. Dick stamped his foot as a substitute for a curse, whipped off his heavy great-coat, wrapped her in it, and pushed her down on to a bench.
"Lena," he said, standing squarely in front of her, "I know I've no right to hope for anything--no right to speak, even, when you know me so little; but, by Heaven, I can't endure to see you grinding out your life in this way, when there's even a chance that you will let me prevent it. You flower of a girl, you! Oh, Lena, I love you--I love you!"