"
"Yes, Mr. Potter?" It was she who answered, turning eagerly to
him.
"In a moment, Miss Malone." He spoke to the stage-manager in a
low tone, and the latter came down into the auditorium, where
Canby and Tinker had remained in their seats.
"He says for you not to wait, gentlemen. There's nothing more to
do this afternoon, and he may be detained quite a time."
The violet boutonniere and the white carnation went somewhat
reluctantly up the aisle together, and, after a last glance back
at the stage from the doorway, found themselves in the colder
air of the lobby, a little wilted.
Bidding Tinker farewell, on the steps of the theatre, Canby
walked briskly out to the Park, and there, abating his energy,
paced the loneliest paths he could find until long after dark.
They were not lonely for him; a radiant presence went with him
through the twilight. She was all about him: in the blue
brightness of the afterglow, in the haze of the meadow
stretches, and in the elusive woodland scents that vanished as
he caught them;--she was in the rosy vapour wreaths on the high
horizon, in the laughter of children playing somewhere in the
darkness, in the twinkling of the lights that began to show--for
now she was wherever a lover finds his lady, and that is
everywhere.
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