n as he says, "Good-bye.... Good-ber-eye." But there is a Fourth
Act, and in the Fourth Act Mr. Levinski has a splendid time. He tells
the audience two parables--one about a dahlia and a sheep, which I
couldn't quite follow--and three reminiscences of life in India; he
brings together finally and for ever these hesitating lovers; and, best
of all, he has a magnificent love-scene of his own with a pretty widow,
in which we see, for the first time in the play, how love should really
be made--not boy-and-girl pretty-pretty love, but the deep emotion felt
(and with occasional lapses of memory explained) by a middle-aged man
with a slight embonpoint who has knocked about the world a bit and knows
life. Mr. Levinski, I need hardly say, was at his best in this Act.

* * * * *

I met Prosper Vane at the club some ten days before the first night, and
asked him how rehearsals were going.

"Oh, all right," he said. "But it's a rotten play. I've got such a
dashed silly part."

"From what you told me," I said, "it sounded rather good."

"It's so dashed unnatural. For three whole Acts this girl and I are in
love with each other, and we know we're in love with each other, and
yet we simply fool about. She's a dashed pretty girl too, my boy. In
real life I'd jolly soon----"

"My dear Alfred," I protested, "you're not going to fall in love with
the girl you have to fall in love with on the stage? I thought actors
never did that."

"They do sometimes; it's a dashed good advertisement. Anyway, it's a
silly part, and I'm fed up with it."

"Yes, but do be reasonable. If _Dick_ got engaged at once to _Winifred_
what would happen to Levinski? He'd have nothing to do."

Prosper Vane grunted. As he seemed disinclined for further conversation,
I left him.

* * * * *

The opening night came, and the usual distinguished and fashionable
audience (including myself) such as habitually attends Mr. Levinski's
first nights, settled down to enjoy itself. Two Acts went well. At the
end of each Mr. Levinski came before the curtain and bowed to us, and we
had the honour of clapping him loud and long. Then the Third Act
began....

Now this is how the Third Act ends:

_Exit_ Sir Geoffrey.

_Winifred (breaking the silence)._ Dick, you heard what he said. Don't
let this silly money come between us. I have told you I love you, dear.
Won't you--won't you speak to me?

_Dick._ Winifr