“Ye-es, I see what you mean. With this more ascetic character, eh?”
“Exactly.” He rubbed his nose productively. “ ‘A Man’s Prayer’ would be better,” he hazarded.
Eliphalet thought it over and shook his head.
“No, it ain’t good. How about ‘The Great Trust?’ ”
“Sounds a shade American, Manning.”
“It does.”
Eliphalet struck the table. “I have it,” he said. “ ‘His Prayer.’ ”
“That’s the note!”
“Then let Lennard know we have decided to call it that. And you might take back some of these to the theatre.” He indicated the pile of plays on his table from which his alterations had been quarried.
Freddie Manning carried off these veterans of the Road, and having nothing better to do for an hour he perused the four acts of “The Vespers” and became pregnant of an idea. He said nothing about it at the theatre that night, but the following morning, when, faithful to his usual routine, he paid his eleven o’clock call on his master, he had every intention of doing so.