'Teresa would tell me what to do. Some one told me Scott was the next best thing to Shakespeare. Oh, well!'
He put his hand to a bell-button in the arm of his chair, and in a few moments his secretary ushered in Mr Charles Mann. Sir Henry rose, drew himself up to his full height, but even then had to look up at his visitor.
'How d'you do? I remember you as a boy, and I remember your father. I even remember his father at Drury Lane.... Pity you've broken the tradition. The public is proud of the old theatrical families.... I'm sorry you wouldn't take that part I offered you. I saw your photograph in the papers and your face was the very thing, and, besides, your return to the stage would have been interesting.'
Charles bristled, and flung his portfolio and large black hat down on the table.
'I have brought you my designs for Volpone.'
'For what?'
'Volpone—a comedy by Ben Jonson.'
'Oh, Ben Jonson!'
Sir Henry was depressed. He had met people before who had talked to him about the Old Dramatists.
Charles opened his portfolio.