LITMIR.BIZ

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      Roper.

      Advancing. Yes, Carlton’s standing a little spread in the foyer, in honour of the occasion. Sitting at the tea-table. Quite right too; she’s his best asset, and chance it.

      Jeyes.

      When was it fixed up?

      Roper.

      Late last night.

      Jeyes.

      The fact is, Lily and I had a slight tiff coming home last night. Sitting on the settee in front of the writing-table. Ha! I suppose she kept it from me to pay me out. Sharply. Who’s invited?

      Roper.

      Er—only the principal members of the Company, I understand.

      Mrs. Upjohn.

      Moistening her lips with her tongue. Yes, only the members of the Company, Lil says.

      Roper.

      With Morrie Cooling and Vincent Bland thrown in.

      Jeyes.

      Looking at Roper. You seem to know a lot about it, Roper.

      Roper.

      I was behind when Morrie was going round to the dressing-rooms.

      Jeyes.

      To Roper, suspiciously. Are you asked?

      Roper.

      Taken aback. E—eh?

      Jeyes.

      Are you asked?

      Roper.

      With an attempt at airiness. Oh, yes, they’ve dragged me into it.

      Jeyes.

      Since when have you been a member of the Company?

      Roper.

      No, but—dash it, I’ve done business for Carlton in the City for twenty years or more——!

      Jeyes.

      That doesn’t make you one.

      Roper.

      And I’m an old friend of Lil’s.

      Jeyes.

      Not older than I. Violently. Why the blazes doesn’t Smythe invite me?

      Roper.

      Extending his arms. My dear Nicko, I’m not giving the party. Really, you do jump down a man’s throat——!

      Jeyes.

      Sorry, sorry, sorry. Leaning back and thrusting his hands into his pocket. Well, I’ll put Jack and the Linthornes off. They don’t want to sup with me; I shouldn’t amuse ’em. Gazing at the carpet. Her birthday, though! It’ll be the first time I shall have been out of that for—how many years?—six years. I—— Raising his head, he detects Mrs. Upjohn and Roper eyeing each other uncomfortably. Anything the matter?

      Roper.

      T-t-the matter?

      Jeyes.

      Taking his hands from his pockets and sitting upright. Any game on?

      Mrs. Upjohn.

      Game?

      Jeyes.

      At my expense?

      Mrs. Upjohn.

      I dun’no wot you’re drivin’ at, Captain.

      Jeyes.

      Harshly. How long’s Lily sitting this afternoon?

      Mrs. Upjohn.

      Till five.

      Jeyes.

      Looking at his watch. What’s Morgan’s number in Fitzroy Street?

      Mrs. Upjohn.

      Sixty.

      Jeyes.

      Rising. I’ll fetch her.

      As he makes a movement towards the door, it is thrown open and Lily Parradell enters with a rush—an entrancing vision of youth, grace, and beauty. She is followed by Jimmie Birch, a petite, bright-eyed girl in an extremely chic costume.

      Lily.

      Tearing off her gloves as she enters. Wh-e-e-w! I’m dead! Giving her hand to Jeyes carelessly. Ah, Nicko! To Mrs. Upjohn. I couldn’t stand the heat in the studio any longer, mother. Finding Roper beside her, she offers her cheek to him and he kisses it. Mon Oncle!

      Jimmie.

      Closing the door. That young man Morgan ought to paint the infernal regions.

      Lily.

      Taking her scarf from her shoulder. He might finish with the angels first, though. To Jeyes, softly, as Roper turns to shake hands with Jimmie. You in a better temper to-day?

      Jeyes.

      In her ear. You drove me wild last night.

      Lily.

      Making a face at him. Served you right. Passing him. For God’s sake, let me lie down. She throws herself upon the settee in front of the writing-table, and Jeyes moves away as Mrs. Upjohn and Roper go to her. Don’t come near me. Give me my fan. Jimmie, where’s my fan?

      Jimmie.

      Oh, I’ve left it in Fitzroy Street!

      Lily.

      Beast!

      Mrs. Upjohn.

      Hurrying to the writing-table. There’s one ’ere, among your presents.

      Lily.

      Unpinning her hat. Uncle Lal, what an adorable ring that is you’ve sent me!

      Roper.

      Taking the fan from Mrs. Upjohn. Ring! A brooch!

      Lily.

      Somebody’s sent me a ring.

      Mrs. Upjohn.

      Sitting in the chair at the end of the settee by the writing-table. There’s three rings.

      Lily.

      Of course! One of them’s from Nicko! To Jeyes. Did you get my sweet telegram, Nicko?

      Jeyes.

      Who has greeted Jimmie and is now seated in the chair on the extreme left—sulkily. I had your telegram, but it’s a pendant I sent you.

      Jimmie.

      Sitting upon the settee by the piano and pulling off her gloves. Ha, ha, ha!

      Lily.

      You shut up, Jimmie. Snatching the fan from Roper. How on earth am I to remember! Fanning herself. Who’s given me this pretty thing?

      Mrs. Upjohn.

      Mr. Monty Levine.

      Lily.

      Bless him! He’s a dear little man, though he does bite his nails. Gladys appears with Vincent Bland, who saunters in after her. Seeing Lily, Gladys advances to her. Hallo, Vincent!

      Bland.

      A thin, delicate looking man of eight-and-thirty, not over smartly dressed, wearing an eye-glass—nodding to Lily casually. You needn’t have cut me, almost on your door-step. To Jimmie and Jeyes. H’lo, Jimmie! H’lo, Nicko!

      Gladys.

      Viewing Lily with an elevation of the brows. Oh, are you home?

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