"I don't think we'd better talk about that at this stage," said Mr. Etheringham. "At least that's my advice. Of course, if later on the business warranted the hope that——"
"Well, anyhow, let's go on as long as the money lasts," said Arthur.
"All right. Can you be ready with those cuts and the new lines by to-morrow afternoon, Beverley?"
"Yes." He had never stopped turning over the pages of the script.
"Very well, I'll call a rehearsal for two o'clock."
Ayesha Layard rose from the sofa. "Well, good-night," she said.
"May I wait for you?" asked Joe.
"Yes, if you like, but I want to speak to Mr. Lisle first." As she passed Arthur, she took hold of his arm and led him to her dressing-room. "Just a second!" she said to her dresser. When the woman had gone out, she planted herself in the chair before the looking-glass and regarded Arthur with a smile. "Were you really ready to put up more money?" she asked. "Are you a millionaire? Because you're not in love with me, and that's the only other thing that might explain it."
"I hate being beat," Arthur protested.
"Happened to you before, hasn't it? In other directions, I mean."