there seemed to be held in store for us by coming years.
I looked at Mrs. Donaldson. She was yawning desperately, and seemed vexed to be caught in the act.
"It is not a good performance, by any means," she said to justify herself. I agreed with her. I was anxious to go home. Arthur had not joined us, and I had heard all the Wagner I wanted for this evening. I tried to delicately insinuate to Mrs. Donaldson that it would be advisable to leave early and avoid the crush. She would not hear of this, however, and favored me with such a Medusa-like stare, that I was silenced most effectually.
The opera was over at last, and slowly and solemnly we wound our way down the broad, red carpeted staircase. A carriage was awaiting us and we were soon rolling hotelward. On the whole I was rather glad I had accompanied the Donaldsons. The scene at the Opera House had amused me somewhat, and I had plenty to say to Arthur, which was in itself a boon. As my husband was not sentimental, and I was determined
