at Sir Geoffrey might be offended
by the suggestion and return the play at once. He wished that he had
gone to Mr. Redder, as Henry had done, and asked him to place the play
for him. "Redder'd stand no humbug," he said to himself.

Sir Geoffrey murmured something about the undesirability of committing
oneself, and added that Gilbert should be content to wait for a year
without any legal undertaking. "Of course," he said magnanimously, "if
you can place the play elsewhere, don't let me stand in your way!" but
Gilbert, alarmed, hurriedly said that he would be glad to leave the play
with him for the time he mentioned. "I'd like you to take the part of
Rupert Westlake," he said. "I don't think any one could play it so well
as you could!" and Sir Geoffrey, still responsive to flattery, smiled
and said he would be delighted to create the part.

The play which he produced instead of "The Magic Casement" ran for six
weeks, bringing neither profit nor honour to Sir Geoffrey, who began to
lose his head, with the result that he produced another play which was a
greater failure than its predecessor. Then came a revival of an old
play which had a moderate amount of success, and "I'll do your play
next," he said to Gilbert. "I shall certainly do your play next!"

It was because of these delays in the production of "The Magic Casement"
that Henry's novel, "Brasilia," was published much earlier than the play
was performed. He had rewritten it so extensively that it was almost a
new novel, very different from the manuscript which his father had read,
and it received a fair number of reviews. The critics whose judgment he
valued, praised it liberally, but the critics whose judgment he
despised, either damned it or ignored it. Gilbert said it was splendid.
"There's still some Slop in it," he said, "but it's miles better than
the first version." Roger liked it. He said, "I like it, Quinny!" and
that was all, but Henry knew that his speech was considerable praise.
Ninian's praise was extravagant, and he was almost like a child in his
pleasure at receiving an inscribed copy from Henry. He spent the better
part of an afternoon in going to bookshops and asking the grossly
ignorant assistants why they had not got "Drusilla" prominently placed
in the window. The assistants were not humiliated by his charge of gross
ignorance, nor were they impressed by his statement that the _Times_
Literary Supplement had described the book as "remarkable." So