‘Am I ever to be allowed to?’ he asked eagerly.
‘Don’t you ever come to the matinées?’
She knew he didn’t.
‘Oh—matinées. No, of course I can’t come to matinées. I have to grind all the week in my beastly office, and on Saturdays I go and play golf with an uncle who is supposed to be going to leave me all his money.’
‘You should cherish him.’
‘I do. And I haven’t minded till now. But it’s an infernal tie-up directly one wants to do anything else.’
He looked at her ruefully. Then his face lit up. ‘Sundays,’ he said eagerly. ‘Sundays I’m free. He’s religious, and won’t play on Sundays. Couldn’t I——?’
‘There aren’t any matinées on Sunday,’ she said.
‘No but couldn’t I come and see you? Come and call?’
‘Hush,’ she said, lifting her hand as the music of the second act began.