Dulcie had plotted it all for her own personal entertainment. Like a mad King of Bavaria she commanded the actors before her. She had caught sight of Sheila, and she   
knew who Bret was from the descriptions of him. She had a grudge against Sheila on general principles and another against Eldon for not going mad over her.
 
Eldon had received no answer to the note he sent Sheila denying his part in the newspaper notoriety. This had rankled in his heart. Bret still believed that the note 
 
was a lie and an effort to keep a hook on Sheila. He loved Eldon less than ever.
 
There was a longing for battle in both the big hearts, and each would have been glad to beat the other down before the whole crowd; yet, because of the crowd, neither 
 
could strike.
 
Sheila guessed at once that Dulcie had planned it; the cat was overacting her r?le of surprise and regret, as her little heart thrilled to see the two men braced in 
 
scarlet confusion and Sheila fluttering between them.
 
Bret endured a year of compressed agony. The foolishness of resuming the fight, the foolishness of not resuming it, the inextricable tangle of contradictory duties and 
 
impulses, shattered him. Eldon was undergoing the same return to chaos.
 
Yet the crowd shoving past observed nothing and did not pause. Bret felt Sheila’s hand clasp his arm both to protect and to be protected, and she urged him on. Then 
 
he managed to bow with formality to Eldon and to Dulcie. And so the great rencounter ended. Dulcie alone was made happy.
 
Sheila could not let her get away with that baby stare. She smiled with pretended amusement and said, “Thank you ever so much, Miss Ormerod.”
 
“Thank me for what?” gasped Dulcie. But Sheila just twinkled her eyes and smiled as she walked on.
 
Her muscles were tired for half an hour with the effort that smile cost them.
 
She led Bret to the box, and he was shivering with the unsatisfied emotions of a fighter for the battle missed. Sheila sank into a chair exhausted. She looked about 
 
anxiously. The one thing needed to complete the situation was for Eldon to walk into the next box and spend the rest of the afternoon. They were spared this 
 
coincidence.
 
Bret was in no mood to remain, but she kept him there. There would be some distraction at least in the spectacle. If they went back to their hotel they would have only 
 
their bitterness to chew upon.
 
The auction of the autographed program began. There was excited bidding from all parts of the house. But Bret kept silent. The program brought five hundred dollars. 
 
Bret sneered at the price of the trash.
 
A musical number came next. The orchestra struck up a tune that would have set gravestones to jigging. A platoon of young men and women in fantastic bravery was flung 
 
across the stage, singing and caracoling. A famous buffoon waddled to the footlights and beamed like a new red moon with its chin on the horizon. He was a master of 
 
the noble art of tomfoolery and the high-school of horse-play. He probed into the childhood core of every heart, and no grief could resist him.
 
Sheila forgot to be dismal and tried to look solemn for Bret’s sake till she saw that he was overpowered, too. He began to grin, to sniff, to snort, to shake, to 
 
roll, to guffaw. He laughed till tears poured down his cheeks. Sheila laughed in a dual joy. Everything solemn, ugly, hateful, dignified, had become foolish an............