Keith took off his overcoat and threw it over the back of a chair, on which Kitty's fur-lined mantle was already resting.
Caprice, who had flushed up on the advance of Stewart, leaned back in her chair, while Keith sat down near her, and Ezra took a position opposite, close to Mortimer.
"Now then, gentlemen," said Mortimer, playing with a paper-cutter, "about this burlesque--what is your opinion?"
"That's rather a curious question to ask an author," replied Keith gaily. "We naturally think it excellent."
"I hope the public will think the same," observed Mortimer drily; "but I don't mean that. I want to know your terms."
"Of course," said Ezra, smoothly; "but just tell us what you are prepared to give."
"I'm buyer, gentlemen, you are sellers," replied the manager shrewdly; "I can't take up your position."
Kitty leaned back in her chair and bent over close to Keith's ear.
"Ask five pounds a night," she whispered.
Stewart glanced at Ezra, and seeing he was in doubt as to what to say, spoke out loudly.