Edward Henry glanced up suddenly from the newspaper. He had been inspired.
"I say, Trent," he remarked, without any warning or preparation, "you're not looking at all well. I want a change myself. I've a good mind to take you for a sea-voyage."
"Oh!" grumbled Trent. "I can't afford sea-voyages."
"I can!" said Edward Henry. "And I shouldn't dream of letting it cost you a penny. I'm not a philanthropist. But I know as well as anybody that it will pay us theatrical managers to keep you in health."
"You're not going to take the play off?" Trent demanded suspiciously.
"Certainly not!" said Edward Henry.
"What sort of a sea-voyage?"
"Well—what price the Atlantic? Been to New York?... Neither have I! Let's go. Just for the trip. It'll do us good."
"You don't mean it?" murmured the greatest dramatic poet, who had never voyaged further than the Isle of Wight. His eyeglass swung to and fro.
Edward Henry feigned to resent this remark.