o the first night and warning her that in
all probability he would not be able to go. The doctor, he explained,
insisted on absolute quiet and absence of excitement. It would have been
more honest to add that the doctor had forbidden him to see any
visitors; but Eric hoped that Barbara would hurry round as soon as she
heard that he was ill and before he could tell her that he was not
allowed to have her there. It was a bitter disappointment when his
secretary brought back a message of sympathy. Later in the day he
received a present of carnations and grapes. It was only when Gaisford
commented on them next morning that his disappointment was mitigated.

"I saw her the other day," explained the doctor. "She was sorry to hear
you were ill. I told her that I wasn't letting you see any one."

"Where did you see her?" Eric asked, trying to keep his voice
unconcerned.

"At her house. The moment I'd left you. I've attended her since she was
a baby, so I felt I knew her well enough to tell her once again to leave
you alone."

Not until the afternoon of the production did Gaisford relax discipline;
then he admitted rather grudgingly that Eric might go to the theatre if
he refused all invitations to supper and came straight back to bed. He
was to dine at home and he would be wise to leave the house before any
one could call on him for a speech.

Eric tried to find out whether a box had been reserved for him, but by
the time that he had received a reply from the theatre and telephoned to
Barbara, she was not to be found. Dinner was an agony which he strove
to make as short as possible. Ordinary nervousness was reinforced by
bitter contrasts of this evening with the night when "The Bomb-Shell"
was produced. Then Barbara had dined with him and sat in his box,
comforting him in the torturing first moments before the play had come
into its own; (and he had driven a ring into her poor finger). It had
been a night of triumph for them both. Never, before or since, had they
been nearer. . . .

He arrived at the Regency early enough to find the house almost empty.
Hiding himself behind the curtains of his box, he watched the familiar
audience settling in place, recognizing friends, waving and calling out
whispered greetings. Mrs. O'Rane and Colonel Grayle; Lady Poynter and
Gerry Deganway; Lady Maitland and one of her boys. . . . He started and
drew farther back, though he was already concealed by the curtains.
Barbara had come in wi