"With pleasure." He grasped it eagerly, and carried it towards the stage door and a hansom.
"It wanted only that," she said. "Oh, the Show, the Show!"
"I don't understand you."
"Do I understand myself?" They got into the hansom. "Where shall we go?" she repeated.
"Places all close at twelve on Saturday night."
"Ah, do they? Your hotel also?"
"No, of course one may eat at one's own hotel. If you don't mind going there—"
"If you don't mind, rather."
"I? Who is my censor?"
"Ah, the word admits I'm discreditable. Never mind, Bob. See how Christian I am."