"—And then the curtain went up and I was all right. I was fine. I was Paul Lambrequin. I was Eric Everard. I was—everything."
"Ivo," Paul said, clapping him on the shoulder, "you're a born trouper."
"Yes," Ivo murmured, "I'm beginning to think so myself."
For the next four weeks, Paul Lambrequin lurked in his room while Ivo Darcy played Paul Lambrequin playing Eric Everard.
"It's terrific of you to take all this time away from your duties, old chap," Paul said to Ivo one day between the matinee and the evening performances. "I really do appreciate it. Although I suppose you've managed to squeeze some of them in. I never see you on non-matinee afternoons."
"Duties?" Ivo repeated vacantly. "Yes, of course—my duties."
"Let me give you some professional advice, though. Be more careful when you take off your makeup. There's still some grease paint in the roots of your hair."
"Sloppy of me," Ivo agreed, getting to work with a towel.
"I can't understand why you bother to put on the stuff at all," Paul grinned, "when all you need to do is just change a little more."
"I know." Ivo rubbed his temples vigorously. "I suppose I just like the—smell of the stuff."