“I hear,” she said, “that this piece is a sort of Gilbert and Sullivan opera.”
Mr Pilkington considered the point.
“I confess,” he said, “that, in writing the book, I had Gilbert before me as a model. Whether I have in any sense succeeded in …”
“The book,” said Mr Trevis, running his fingers over the piano, “is as good as anything Gilbert ever wrote.”
“Oh come, Rolie!” protested Mr Pilkington modestly.
“Better,” insisted Mr Trevis. “For one thing, it is up-to-date.”
“I do try to strike the modern tone,” murmured Mr Pilkington.
“And you have avoided Gilbert’s mistake of being too fanciful.”
“He was fanciful,” admitted Mr Pilkington. “The music,” he added, in a generous spirit of give and take, “has all Sullivan’s melody with a newness of rhythm peculiarly its own. You will like the music.”
“It sounds,” said Jill amiably, “as though the piece is bound to be a tremendous success.”