"I think that's quite wonderful." She leaned back in her chair and regarded Vane with admiration. "And I see that you're only a Captain. . . . How true it is that the best brains in the Army adorn the lower positions. By the way—I must just make a note of your name." She produced a small pocketbook from her bag and opened it. "My duties are so arduous that I have been compelled to make lists and things."
"Vane," he answered, "Christian—Derek."
She entered both in her book, and then shut it with a snap. "Now I'm ready to begin. Are you going to amuse me, or am I going to amuse you?"
"You have succeeded in doing the latter most thoroughly," Vane assured her.
"No—have I really? I must be in good form to-day. One really never can tell, you know. An opening that is a scream with some people falls as flat as ditch-water with others." She looked at him pensively for a moment or two, tapping her small white teeth with a gold pencil.
Suddenly Vane leaned forward. "May I ask your age, Joan?"
Her eyebrows went up slightly. "Joan!" she said.
"I dislike addressing the unknown," remarked Vane, "and I heard Lady
Patterdale call you Joan. But if you prefer it—may I ask your age, Miss
Snooks?"
She laughed merrily. "I think I prefer Joan, thank you; though I don't generally allow that until the fourth or fifth performance. You see, if one gets on too quickly it's so difficult to fill in the time at the end if the convalescence is a long one."
"I am honoured," remarked Vane. "But you haven't answered my question."