"'Please.' I must get up now, or I shall be late at the office.
Good-bye, Babs darling."

"Good-bye, sweetheart."

They dined with unnecessary haste. For all his philosophy, Eric's
nervousness shewed itself in over-frequent consultation of his watch,
and they entered their box before the stalls were half-full. Barbara sat
forward, bowing to friends in the familiar, first-night gathering; but
he preferred to stand at her side, hidden by a curtain, while she called
back the names of the new arrivals. This was a greater ordeal than the
evening when his first play was produced, for he was known now, and the
critics would judge him by the success and standard of the earlier play;
instead of a handful of old colleagues, he was now on nodding terms with
a third of the audience; it was a personal trial, and he did not want to
fail under their eyes; most of all he did not want to fail before
Barbara.

As the curtain went up, he sat down beside her and, after a quick glance
at the stage, began to inspect the house. Her hand slipped into his, and
he heard a whispered "Cheer up! It's going to be a tremendous success. I
will it to be!" Then his attention went back to the house. Why the devil
couldn't people take the trouble to arrive in time? Pushing their way in
late, blocking the view. . . . Mrs. Shelley, of all people. He knew her
well enough to speak plainly about it. . . . The house was very quiet,
very cold; expectant, perhaps, but they ought to be warming now. . . . A
slip--and another! It was curious that a woman like Mabel Elstree could
go on rehearsing and being pulled up over the same thing again and again
without ever learning--a moderately intelligent woman too--working at
her own job. . . . The last week had been thrown away. . . .

But in all the rehearsals he had never noticed how this opening dragged.
Manders had never criticized it (one of the few things he _hadn't_ tried
to cut about); and it was dragging. In a moment people would be yawning
and talking to one another; the pit would become noisy with its feet;
already there was a rustle; if they would only look at the stage instead
of trying to learn their programmes by heart! They should have done that
before! And still the house was cold. . . . God in heaven! small blame
to it!

Eric sat back with tightly shut mouth, then grew suddenly rigid. There
was a single quick laugh, the herald for gusty laughter rising
simultaneously from a dozen different parts