"I'll buy the show outright and my wife's freedom to boot—or else Max will begin to accumulate the local colour of a hospital ward."
Ember smiled grimly. "You're beginning to convince even me. When, may I ask, do you propose to pull off this sporting proposition?"
"Do you know where Max can be found to-night?"
"At the theatre—"
"Then the matter will be arranged at the theatre between this hour and midnight."
"I doubt if you succeed in getting the ear of the great man before midnight; however, I'm not disposed to quibble about a few hours."
"But why shouldn't I?"
"Because Max is going to be the busiest young person in town to-night. And that is why I've been looking for you.... Conforming to his custom, he's giving an advance glimpse of the production to the critics and a few friends in the form of a final grand dress-rehearsal to-night. Again, in conformance with his custom, he has honoured me with a bid. I've been chasing you all day to find out if you'd care to go—"
"Eight o'clock and a bit after," Whitaker interrupted briskly, consulting his watch. "Here, boy," he hailed a passing page; "call a taxicab for me." And then, rising alertly: "Come along; I've got to hustle home and make myself look respectable enough for the occasion; but at that, with luck, I fancy we'll be there before the first curtain."
This mood of faith, of self-reliance and assured optimism held unruffled throughout the dash homewards, his hurried change of clothing and the ride to the theatre. Nothing that Ember, purposely pessimistic, could say or do availed to diminish the high buoyancy of his humour. He maintained a serene faith in his star, a spirited temper that refused to recognize obstacles in the way of his desire.