'Now? It is just nine. I suppose he's in some theatre.'
'I suppose he goes a great deal to the theatre. I wonder who he goes with. He has lots of friends in London—actresses, I suppose; he knows them who play in his plays. He dines at his club——'
'Or at a restaurant.'
'I wonder what a restaurant is like; ladies dine at restaurants, don't they?'
As Julia was about to make reply, the servant brought her a letter. She opened the envelope, and took out a long, closely-written letter; she turned it over to see the signature, and then looking toward Emily, she said, with a pleasant smile—
'Now I shall be able to answer your questions better; this letter is from Mr. Price.'
'Oh, what does he say? Read it.'
'Wait a moment, let me glance through it first; it is very difficult to read.' A few moments after, Julia said, 'There's not much that would interest you in the letter, Emily; it is all about his play. He says he would have written before if he had not been so busy looking out for a theatre, and engaging actors and actresses. He hopes to start rehearsing next week.
"I say I hope, because there are still some parts of the play which do not satisfy me, particularly the third act. I intend to work steadily on the play till, next Thursday, five or six hours every day; I am in perfect health and spirits, and ought to be able to get the thing right. Should I fail to satisfy myself, or should any further faults appear when we begin to rehearse the piece, I shall dismiss my people, pack up my traps, and return to Ashwood. There I shall have quiet; here, people are continually knocking at my door, and I cannot deny my friends the pleasure of seeing me, if that is a pleasure. But at Ashwood, as I say, I shall be sure of quiet, and can easily finish the play this autumn, and February is a better time than September to produce a play."'