'But why? I hope she isn't ill? Had we better send for the doctor?'

'Oh no; she'll be all right in the morning. She has been crying. She
suffers from depression of spirits. She is, I assure you, all right,' said
Mrs. Bentley, replying to Hubert's alarmed and questioning face. 'I assure
you there is no need for you to reproach yourself. Dinner is ready.' She
took his arm, and they went into the dining-room.

No further mention was made of Mr. Burnett, of money matters, or of the
young lady up-stairs; and with considerable tact Mrs. Bentley introduced
the subject of literature, alluding gracefully to Hubert's position as a
dramatist.

'Your play, _Divorce_, is now running at the Queen's Theatre?'

No; I'm sorry to say it was taken out of the bills last Saturday. Saturday
night was the last performance.'

'That was not a long run. And the papers spoke so favourably of it.'

'It is a play that only appeals to the few.' And, encouraged by Mrs.
Bentley's manner, Hubert told her how happy endings and comic love-scenes
were essential to secure a popular success.

'I am afraid you will think me very stupid, but I do not quite understand.'

In a quiet, unobtrusive way Hubert was a graceful talker, and he knew how
to adapt his theme, and bring it within the circle of the sympathies of his
listeners. There was some similarity of temperament between himself and