Young croom’s second visit to England’s Past at Drury Lane was the first visit of the other three members of Dornford’s little dinner party, and by some fatality, not unconnected with him who took the tickets, they were seated two by two; young Croom with Clare in the middle of the tenth row, Dornford and Dinny in returned stalls at the end of the third . . . .

“Penny for your thoughts, Miss Cherrell?”

“I was thinking how the English face has changed since 1900.”

“It’s the hair. Faces in pictures a hundred to a hundred and fifty years ago are much more like ours.”

“Drooping moustaches and chignons do hide expression, but was there the expression?”

“You don’t think the Victorians had as much character?”

“Probably more, but surely they suppressed it; even in their dresses, always more stuff than was needed; frock-coats, high collars, cravats, bustles, button boots.”

“The leg WAS on their nerves, but the neck wasn’t.”

“I give you the woman’s necks. But look at their furniture: tassels, fringes, antimacassars, chandeliers, enormous sideboards. They DID play hide-and-seek with the soul, Mr. Dornford.”

“And every now and then it popped out, like little Edward after unclothing himself under his mother’s dining-table at Windsor.”

“He never did anything quite so perfect again.”

“I don’t know. He was another Restoration in a mild way. Big opening of floodgates under him.” . . .

“He HAS sailed, hasn’t he, Clare?”

“Yes, he’s sailed all right. Look at Dornford! He’s fallen for Dinny completely. I wish she’d take to him.”

“Why shouldn’t she?”

“My dear young man, Dinny’s been in very deep waters. She’s in them even now.”

“I don’t know anyone I’d like better for a sister-inlaw.”

“Don’t you wish you may get her?”

“God! Yes! Don’t I!”

“What do YOU think of Dornford, Tony?”

“Awfully decent, not a bit dry.”

“If he were a doctor he’d have a wonderful bedside manner. He’s a Catholic.”

“Wasn’t that against him in the election?”

“It would have been, but his opponent was an atheist, so they cried quits.”

“Terrible humbug, politics.”

“But rather fun.”

“Still, Dornford won that Bar point-to-point — he must have guts.”

“Lots. I should say he’d face anything in his quiet way. I’m quite fond of him.”

“Oh!”

“No intention to incite you, Tony.”

“This is like being on board ship, sitting side by side, and — stymied. Come out for a cigarette.”

“People are coming back. Prepare yourself to point me the moral of the next act. At present I don’t see any.”

“Wait!” . . .

Dinny drew in her breath.

“That’s terrible. I can just remember the Titanic. Awful, the waste in the world!”

“You’re right.”

“Waste of life, and waste of love.”

“Have YOU come up against much waste?”

“Yes.”

“You don’t care to talk about it?”

“No.”

“I don’t believe that your sister’s going to be wasted. She’s too vivid.”

“Yes, but her head’s in chancery.”

“She’ll duck from under.”

“I can’t bear to think of her life being spoiled. Isn’t there some legal dodge, Mr. Dornford; without publicity, I mean?”

“If he would give cause, there need be very little of that.”

“He won’t. He’s feeling vindictive.”

“I see. Then I’m afraid there’s nothing for it but to wait. These things generally disentangle themselves. Catholics are not supposed to believe in divorce. But if YOU feel this is a case for one —”

“Clare’s only twenty-four. She can’t live alone the rest of her life.”

“Were YOU thinking of doing that?”

“I! That’s different.”

“Yes, you’re very unlike, but to have you wasted would be far worse. Just as much worse as wasting a lovely day in winter is than wasting one in summer.”

“The curtain’s going up.” . . .

“I wonder,” muttered Clare: “It didn’t look to me as if their love would have lasted long. They were eating each other like sugar.”

“My God, if you and I on that boat had been —”

“You’re very young, Tony.”

“Two years older than you.”

“And about ten years younger.”

“Don’t you really believe in love lasting, Clare?”

“Not passion. And after that generally the delug............