Boston beside him in the closed car. She could not even exchange words with him, it seemed to her. She must get away. Somehow she must get away. The necessity of immediate escape put courage into her, helped her to act with caution, and amazing calmness.
It was after the music had stopped, and Chadwick Booth and Reba had wended their way back to the table, that Reba remarked before sitting down: "I'm so warm perhaps I'd better slip on my sweater. I left it upstairs, in the dressing-room."
"I wish I could get it," solicitously he told her. Then looking into her eyes, "Am I forgiven now, dear Becky?" he asked in a low voice.
She let her gaze sink into his, as she knew how to do now. She recoiled from this kind of deceit, but she must throw him off the scent somehow.
"Yes," she replied sweetly. "You're forgiven now."
"Don't be long!" he whispered exultantly.
"I won't," she smiled, and left him.
