Secretly she was gratified to be assigned to the rôle of an old traveller. Swiftly she ran her hands over the carvings, trying to find the lever to the secret panel again. The chapel was crowded to excess. The young man opposite was straining his ears to listen to their conversation. He would read the jokes and illustrate them; and after a time I could see the point of a joke without having it explained to me. They don’t count, and I don’t care. As she did so the preparation-room door opened behind her. If he adhered to this policy—to keep away from her inconspicuously—she would forget the name by night, and to-morrow even the bearer of it would sink below the level of recollection. Then it dawned.
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