Neith Boyce

“ VI. From the topmost gallery of the theatre a pair of rented opera-glasses were levelled more frequently at Mr. Seton's box than at the stage. Tom had paid away his dollar, in fact, not to see the play, but to feed his melancholy, his bitterness against Cecilia, and incidentally against Bertha. He wanted to see them flaunting in their ill-gotten prosperity, forgetful of him, for whom both of them had professed a certain affection. And he saw them, and was melancholy to his heart's content. The opera-glasses brought them so near that he could see Bertha's smile and Cecilia's diamonds. ”

“ And he had also promised to go to the theatre the next Saturday night as escort to Bertha and Mrs. Clayber.
"It's Dutch treat, you know," said Bertha. "I'll get three seats together in the gallery—two for us and one for you, and I'll send your ticket to you. Then you can meet us at the theatre."
As she undressed that night, with the usual delays to contemplate herself in the mirror, Bertha hummed a gay little song to herself. She was almost content with fate just now. Tom certainly was beginning to like her and to admire her. And it was very sweet to be liked by him. ”

“ This isn't Cecilia's house. I have a right to do as I like. Now, don't be fussy, mother. You ought to let me have a little fun occasionally. I'm sure life is poky enough here for anybody, even Cecilia."
And Bertha, pouting and quite determined, carried her point, as usual. After half an hour's general conversation, and coffee and cake, Mrs. Clayber and Mabel retired, though not without a peremptory hint from Bertha, and she and Tom talked for an hour longer, sitting before the flickering gas-log—Bertha much disposed to make herself charming and Tom very willing to admire her. ”