"Who was in the box?"

Chrystie bounced exuberantly on the stool.

"That's the joke. None of us could see. Whoever he was he was far back,
out of sight. It was awfully exciting to me for I simply adore Pancha
Lopez and Charlie Crowder, who knows her so well, says she hasn't an
admirer of any kind."

Aunt Ellen came to the surface with,

"Perhaps she's going to get one now."

And Lorry added,

"I hope, if she is, he'll be somebody nice. Mr. Crowder says she's had
such a hard life and been so fine and brave all along."

Soon after that Mark left. There had been a time when the first move for
departure was as trying as the ordeal of entrance, but he had got beyond
that. Tonight he felt that he did it in quite an easy nonchalant way, the
ladies, true to a gracious tradition, trailing after him into the hall.
It was there that an unexpected blow fell; Chrystie, the _enfant
terrible, _delivered it. Gliding about to the hummed refrain of the
Castanet song her eye fell on his card. She picked it up and read
it:

"Mark D.L. Burrage. What does D.L. stand for?"