'You asked what Miss Le Mesurier was like. There's your answer.'

Drake glanced in that direction. He saw a girl in a dress of pink silk,
standing in the front of the box, with her hands upon the ledge and
leaning her head a little forwards beyond it. The glare striking up from
the stage beneath her gave a burnish of copper to her hair and a warm
light to her face. She seemed of a fragile figure and with features
regular and delicate. Drake received a notion of unimpressive prettiness
and turned his attention to the stage. When the lights were raised again
in the auditorium, he noticed that Fielding was in the box talking to a
gentleman with white hair, and that Mallinson was seated by the side of
Miss Le Mesurier. The latter couple were gazing about the house and
apparently discussing the audience,--at all events conversing with
considerable animation. Drake commented upon their manner and drew the
conventional inference.

'Oh dear, no!' answered Conway energetically. 'Of course Mallinson's aim
is apparent enough, poor fellow.' A touch of scorn in the voice, which
rang false, negatived the pity of the phrase. 'But I don't suppose for an
instant that she has realised it. She would be the last to do so. No, she
has a fad in her head about authors just for the moment.'

'Oh!' said Drake, turning with some interest to his companion. 'Does that
account for _A Man of Influence_?'

'Yes,' replied Conway reluctantly, 'I fancy it does.'

'I wondered what set him to writing.'

'He was at the Bar when he met her. I believe she persuaded him to write