denly that she was frozen into silence.

"Would _you_ have had anything to say, if you hadn't promised Gaisford
not to communicate with me?"

"The usual things, Eric. I'd have told you what I was doing, I'd have
sent you my love. If you're tired of that, darling----"

"Not _that_, Barbara!"

Her eyes opened wide with distress.

"Eric, what's the matter? What have I done? Mayn't I even call you
'darling' now?"

"_Are_ you being quite honest, Barbara?"

"Thank you, Eric!"

"Have you nothing to tell me since last time?"

She looked at him imperiously and considered her words before speaking.

"The last time we met? Or the last time we corresponded? Which d'you
mean? The last time we corresponded was when your secretary telephoned
to thank me for the flowers. Before that, you sent me a message by her
that you probably wouldn't be well enough to take me to your first
night. . . . I'd have come round the evening before if Dr. Gaisford
hadn't made me promise not to. I've always said that I'd come to you
from the ends of the earth if you were ill. When I heard that you
weren't allowed to see any one----"

"It wasn't as bad as that," Eric interrupted. "Gaisford let me get up
for the first night. I--caught sight of you in the distance. But I left
after the first interval."

4

From the end of the table Lady Poynter was making desperate attempts to
attract Eric's attention.

"Mr. Lane, you're the only person who can tell us this----"

Barbara touched his wrist and nodded past him.

"Margaret's trying to speak to you," she said.

Eric galvanized his attention and turned with a murmur of apology.

"Mr. Lane, is it true that 'Mother's Son' was refused _three--times_?"
Lady Poynter asked. She could not have been more righteously indignant
if she had been judging the three denials of Saint Peter. "I've never
_heard_ of such a thing!"

"It wasn't quite in its present form," Eric explained. "The theme's the
same, but I've rewritten almost every word."

Lady Poynter nodded triumphantly.

"Ah! Then I was right!" she informed her neighbour, and Eric was free to
turn again to Barbara.

"Where had we got to?" he asked, after a moment's embarrassed silence.

"You came to the theatre after all. You saw me. You left after the first
interval," she reminded him fearlessly. "As you seem to be--drawing an
indictment, is that the phrase?--don't you think you'd better go on?"

"There's nothing more to say. Once or twic