th George Oakleigh. They were standing in the
gangway, waiting to be shewn their seats. While George disposed of his
hat and coat, she threw open her cloak and pinned a bunch of carnations
into her dress. They talked for a moment, studied their programmes and
began talking again. After a few minutes George produced a pair of
opera-glasses and took a leisurely survey of the house. Barbara looked
with careless deliberation at the box from which she had watched "The
Bomb-Shell"; seeing no one in it, she looked away as deliberately and
glanced at the watch on her wrist.

Eric began to open a pile of telegrams. "Good wishes." "All possible
success"; such a tribute had meant much to him when his first play was
produced. . . . Two thirds of the stalls were full, though no doubt
there would still be enough constitutional late-comers to spoil the
first five minutes of the play. Why people could not take the trouble
. . . He pulled himself up and went back to the telegrams; he would not
live through the evening if he began to excite himself like this. But
what he wanted was to have Barbara by his side, to feel her lips at his
ear and to catch her whisper of love and encouragement--"It's going to
be a tremendous success! I _will_ it to be!"

He would like to catch her eye. . . . If the first act went even
tolerably, he could allow himself to be seen; perhaps she would come and
sit with him for the other two. . . .

The lights were lowered, there was a moment's silence, and the curtain
rolled noiselessly up. Eric sat forward with his eyes fixed on the
stage. Then, as the first line was spoken, he threw himself back in his
chair with a smothered oath. A trim programme-seller was tripping down
the gangway with mincing daintiness--down and down to the very front row
of the stalls. A party of four stumbled after her, whispering and
groping in the darkness, while she gave them programmes and herded them
into their seats. There were whispered apologies, as they squeezed in
front of their neighbours; whispered thanks as one man stood up,
crushing himself back, and another stepped into the gangway to let them
pass. At last they were in place! And then it was time for the two women
of the party to whisper again, gesticulating for a redistribution of
seats. The men fussed and fidgeted, untying their mufflers and rolling
up their overcoats. And then it was time for all four to rustle their
programmes. Every one was looking at them instead o