They would attend, though he would not sit with them.

Mr.Patterson in his black suit, his wife in society raiment, would sit downstairs and would doubtless applaud their lodger; but he would be remote from them; in a far corner of the topmost gallery, he first thought, for Hearts on Fire was to be shown in one of the big down-town theatres where a prominent member of its cast could lose himself.
He had told the Pattersons a little about the story.

It was pretty pathetic in spots, he said, but it all came right in the end, and there were some good Western scenes.

When the Pattersons said he must be very good in it, he found himself unable to achieve the light fashion of denial and protestation that would have become him.

He said he had struggled to give the world something better and finer.