"I understand now what you meant," she said softly. "How splendid to be able to bring some one here for the first time!"
"What surprises me," said Carthew, "is that Sir John hasn't brought you here already. I know he simply loves it."
"I am usually taken to places like the Gaiety," confessed Lady Carr. "Probably Jack considers them more suited to my intellect. Hallo, here are the orchestra-men crawling out of their holes again! Good!"
Presently the curtain went up on the last act, and Jack Point introduced a selection of the Merry Jests of Hugh Ambrose, to the audible joy of the fourth row of stalls. The Assistant Tormentor and his beloved were likewise warmly received; but presently Daphne's smiles faded. Poor Jack Point's tribulations were too much for her: during the final recurrence of I Have a Song to Sing, O! tears came, and as the curtain fell she dabbed her eyes hurriedly with an inadequate handkerchief.
"Awfully sorry!" she murmured apologetically. "Luckily you are not the sort to laugh at me."
Carthew silently placed her wrap round her shoulders.
"Mr Carthew," said Daphne suddenly, "will you take me somewhere gay for supper? It wouldn't be awfully improper, would it? I can't go home feeling as sad as this."
"Come along!" said Carthew.
He escorted her to an establishment where the electric lights blazed bravely, a band blared forth a cacophonous cake-walk entitled (apparently) "By Request," and the brightest and best of the jeunesse dorée of London mingled in sweet companionship with the haughty but hungry divinities of the musical comedy stage.
Carthew secured a table in a secluded corner, as far as possible from the band.