Without therefore any needed instinctive knowledge of what was coming out, in Paris, on the bright highway, he struck himself at present as having more than once flushed with a suspicion: he couldn't otherwise at present be feeling so many fears confirmed.

There were "movements" he was too late for: weren't they, with the fun of them, already spent?
There were sequences he had missed and great gaps in the procession: he might have been watching it all recede in a golden cloud of dust.

If the playhouse wasn't closed his seat had at least fallen to somebody else.

He had had an uneasy feeling the night before that if he was at the theatre at all--though he indeed justified the theatre, in the specific sense, and with a grotesqueness to which his imagination did all honour, as something he owed poor Waymarsh--he should have been there with, and as might have been said, FOR Chad.
This suggested the question of whether he could properly have taken him to such a play, and what effect--it was a point that suddenly rose--his peculiar responsibility might be held in general to have on his choice of entertainment.

It had literally been present to him at the Gymnase--where one was held moreover comparatively safe--that having his young friend at his side would have been an odd feature of the work of redemption; and this quite in spite of the fact that the picture presented might well, confronted with Chad's own private stage, have seemed the pattern of propriety.