Emma had been schooled in what to say should this request be made. Her manner of putting it was:
“She’s in bed. Bit funny to-day! You know what I mean.”
“I will reply later,” said Eliphalet. When Emma had left the room, he picked up the thread of the former conversation—his familiar views upon the degradation of acting for the Cinema.
“Yet, sir,” said Ronald, who had listened very politely, “I am sure Miss Mornice June would have a great future in the film. My father agrees with me.”
“There is no future for the film, my boy,” corrected Eliphalet. “Now, for the stage——”
Ronald Knight agreed heartily that the art of the stage ranked on a far higher plane, and expressed his own very proper ambitions in this direction.
On the whole, Eliphalet was pleased with the young man, and lost his sense of jealousy when Mornice “Ronnied” and “Spuddied” him.
After he had gone and Eliphalet had replied for about the nineteenth time, “Certainly he is a very agreeable young fellow,” he turned to the matter of the letter again.
“It is very curious,” he said, after reading it a second time, “but there is something familiar about the composition and handwriting of this note.”
“Now you say so, it strikes me too,” said Mornice.