; instead of stopping, it
swelled and engulfed the house. Ah, thank God! that sea of vacant, stiff
faces had broken! The house was alive and warm. The players, pausing of
necessity, breathed thanksgiving before returning to dialogue which had
become suddenly imbued with new strength and finish.

Eric felt Barbara's lips at his ear.

"Didn't I say I'd will it for you?" she whispered.

"It might go quite well," he answered, unsuccessfully nonchalant. "Every
one's in a good temper now."

"And you can let go my hand for a minute!" She winced and put one
knuckle into her mouth. "I stood it as long as I could, but you've been
_driving_ my rings into my unhappy finger--All right, darling! kiss the
place to make it well. I could _see_ you weren't enjoying yourself, but
you wanted me to feel it, too. So sweet of you!"

In the first interval they stayed in the box and allowed themselves to
be seen; during the whole of the second an army of their friends laid
siege to the door with greetings to Barbara and congratulations to Eric.
He would have liked to smoke a cigarette outside with some of his old
colleagues; he would have liked still better to think it all over in
peace. This was going to be a greater success than the first play! And
Barbara, with tears in her eyes, was saying "Come and congratulate us!"

Eric had little idea who flooded the box during that tempestuous ten
minutes. Lady Maitland was there with an air of having written the play
or at least of having discovered the author. And Gerald Deganway, who
never missed a first night, simpering falsetto congratulations. And
Colonel Waring and Agnes: he remembered them, because he was so much
surprised to see them . . . and he had wanted to introduce Agnes to
Babs, and there had been no opportunity. . . . And Colonel Grayle and
Sonia O'Rane, who invited them to come back for supper. . . . There was
violent reaction after his early nervousness, and he found himself
within an inch of giggling. When the lights were lowered and he had
hurried the last visitors from the box, he sat down and buried his face
in his hands. How long it was he never knew, before Barbara leaned over
him, pulling gently at his arm.

"Anything wrong?" he asked.

"Come outside," she whispered.

They walked to a flight of four steps leading through a fire-proof door
to the wings.

"Where are you going to?" he asked.

"Sit down; it's quiet here. Now listen carefully: there's only about
anothe