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The British Theatre was new, and the management, recognising that people prefer stalls, had given up all the available space to them, and only left room for two large boxes, which faced each other on a level with the dress circle and next the stage. Lord Holme had one. Mrs. Wolfstein had taken the other. Miss Schley's personal success in London brought together a rather special audience.
She is vivacious at all costs, and would rather suggest hysteria than British phlegm. Miss Schley's calm was therefore in no danger of being drowned in any pervasive calm about her. On the contrary, it stood out. It became very individual.
"Ah!" said Lord Holme, striking a match, and holding out his cigarette case, regardless of regulations. A momentary desire to look in at the Elwyns' possessed him. Then he thought of a supper-party and forgot it. MRS. WOLFSTEIN was right. There was money in Miss Schley's performance.
When Lady Holme walked quietly into her drawing-room two or three minutes later he met her with Miss Schley's card in his hand. "What have you got there, Fritz?" she said. He gave her the card. "You never told me you'd run up against her," he remarked. Lady Holme looked at the card and then, quickly, at her husband. "Why do you know Miss Schley?" she asked. "Not I." "Well then?"
And so everybody's going, on Miss Schley's first night? I only wish we could, but we can't. Let's put up with number two. We're free on the second." Lord Holme did not look at all appeased. "That's not the same thing," he said. "What's the difference? She doesn't change the play, I suppose?" "No.
The Pimpernel Schleys of the world know this masculine propensity of seeking different things opposites, even in the wife and the woman beyond the edge of the hearthstone, a propensity perhaps more tragic to wives than any other that exists in husbands. And having recognised this fact, Lady Holme knew that it would be worse than useless for her to imitate Miss Schley's imitation of her.
That day it chanced that Lord Holme came in just before his wife and carelessly glanced over the cards which had been left during the afternoon. He was struck by the name of Pimpernel. It tickled his fancy somehow. As he looked at it he grinned. He looked at it again and vaguely recalled some shreds of the club gossip about Miss Schley's attractions.
To be like that at his age. What's the good? As if " He smiled slowly at her. "I'm glad I'm young," he said. "I'm glad you're young too," she answered. "But you're quite wrong about Sir Donald." She let her eyes rest on his. He shook his head. "No, I'm not. I guessed it that day at the Carlton. All through lunch he looked at you." "But what has all this to do with Miss Schley's performance?"
Wolfstein in token of her pleasure in Miss Schley's success, her opinion that it had been worthily earned. As she nodded she touched one hand with the other, making a silent applause that Mrs. Wolfstein and all her friends might see. Then she let Leo Ulford put on her cloak and called pretty words down Mrs.
As we made our way up the channel, a pilot boat hailed us and told us of Sampson and Schley's glorious victory over Cervera. Though our joy was great and our enthusiasm intense, we were greatly disappointed that we were not in at the death. We felt sure that if we had been there our skipper would have worked the old craft in near enough to have given us a shot.
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