chamber--Act III, Scene I--by the secret door behind the arras. After
bringing down the curtain with two ugly looks, four steps, and a sneer,
I sat down on the fallen beech-tree, lighted a cigarette, and wondered
why I had rejected the post of call-boy. Then I started on the
love-scene again.

"'Madam, it is said that I am a harsh man. I am not harsh to every
one. Better for me, perhaps, if I were; yet so God made me.'"

"When do you open?"

"That's wrong," said I. "'Can you be gentle, then?' comes after that.
Now, however, that you have shattered the atmosphere I had created--of
course, I think you're absolutely beautiful, and, if you'll wait a
second, I'll get Pomfret's rug."

"I don't know what you mean, but thanks all the same, and if Pomfret
doesn't mind, this tree is rather grubby."

I got the rug and spread it on the fallen trunk for her. She was what
the Irish are popularly believed to call 'a shlip of a ghirl,' clad in
a dark blue riding-habit that fitted her slim figure beautifully. No
hat covered her thick, blue-black hair, which was parted in the middle
and loosely knotted behind. Here and there a wisp of it was in the act
of escaping. I watched them greedily. Merry grey eyes and the softest
colouring, with a small red mouth, ready to join the eyes in their
laughter if its owner listed. She was wearing natty little
patent-leather boots, and her hunting hat and crop lay on the log by
her side. She sat down and began to pull the gloves off a pair of
small brown hands.

"Do you know if cats ever drink water?" she said musingly.

"From what I remember of last year's statistics, there was, I believe,
a marked decrease in the number of alcoholism cases reported as
occurring amongst that species. I'm speaking off-hand, you know."

"Never mind that: it's very good hearing."

"I know, and, talking of tight-ropes, Alice, have you seen the March
Hare lately?"

She threw her head back and laughed merrily. Then--

"We are fools, you know," she said.

"Perhaps. Still, a little folly--"

"Is a dangerous thing. And, now, when do you open?"

"To-morrow week. And, owing to the iniquitous provisions of the new
Shops Act, foisted by a reckless Government upon a--"

"You can cut that bit."

"Thank you. We close the same night."

"Positively for one performance only?"

"Exactly. And that's why I shall only just be able to get you a seat."

"You needn't trouble."

"What! Don't you wan