henceforward Henry lived largely in the world of the theatre, a
pariah's life, the life almost of a poor relation. Doxey appeared to
enjoy the existence; it was Doxey's brief hour of bliss. But Henry,
spoilt by editors, publishers, and the reading public, could not easily
reconcile himself to the classical position of an author in the world of
the theatre. It hurt him to encounter the prevalent opinion that, just
as you cannot have a dog without a tail or a stump, so you cannot have a
play without an author. The actors and actresses were the play, and when
they were pleased with themselves the author was expected to fulfil his
sole function of wagging.

Even Jane Map, Henry's confessed adorer, was the victim, Henry thought,
of a highly-distorted sense of perspective. The principal comfort which
he derived from Jane Map was that she ignored Doxey entirely.

The preliminary rehearsals were desolating. Henry went away from the
first one convinced that the piece would have to be rewritten from end
to end. No performer could make anything of his own part, and yet each
was sure that all the other parts were effective in the highest degree.

At the fourth rehearsal John Pilgrim came down to direct. He sat in the
dim stalls by Henry's side, and Henry could hear him murmuring softly
and endlessly:

'Punch, brothers, punch with care--
Punch in the presence of the passenjare!'

The scene was imagined to represent a studio, and Jane Map, as Enid
Anstruther, was posing on the model's throne.

'Jane,' Mr. Pilgrim hissed out, 'you pose for all the world like an
artist's model!'

'Well,' Jane retorted, 'I am an artist's model.'

'No, you aren't,' said John. 'You're an actress on my stage, and you
must pose like one.'

Whereupon Mr. Pilgrim ascended to the stage and began to arrange Jane's
limbs. By accident Jane's delightful elbow came into contact with John
Pilgrim's eye. The company was horror-struck as Mr. Pilgrim lowered his
head and pressed a handkerchief to that eye.

'Jane, Jane!' he complained in his hoarse and conspiratorial whisper,
'I've been teaching you the elements of your art for two years, and all
you have achieved is to poke your elbow in my eye. The rehearsal is
stopped.'

And everybody went home.

Such is a specimen of the incidents which were continually happening.

However, as the first night approached, the condition of affairs
improved a little, and Henry saw with satisfaction that t