narrative, which was evidently the resumed thread of an unfinished
taxi-drive monologue.

"We all said 'it can't be Captain Parminter, because he's always
been sweet on Joan,' and then Emily said--"

The curtain went up, and Emily's contribution to the discussion had
to be held over till the entr'acte.

The play promised to be a success. The author, avoiding the
pitfall of brilliancy, had aimed at being interesting and as far as
possible, bearing in mind that his play was a comedy, he had
striven to be amusing. Above all he had remembered that in the
laws of stage proportions it is permissible and generally desirable
that the part should be greater than the whole; hence he had been
careful to give the leading lady such a clear and commanding lead
over the other characters of the play that it was impossible for
any of them ever to get on level terms with her. The action of the
piece was now and then delayed thereby, but the duration of its run
would be materially prolonged.

The curtain came down on the first act amid an encouraging
instalment of applause, and the audience turned its back on the
stage and began to take a renewed interest in itself. The
authoress of "The Woman who wished it was Wednesday" had swept like
a convalescent whirlwind, subdued but potentially tempestuous, into
Lady Caroline's box.

"I've just trodden with all my weight on the foot of an eminent
publisher as I was leaving my seat," she cried, with a peal of