“I’m madly keen to get on.”
“What do you call getting on?”
“I mean to have one’s name and photograph in all the papers, to keep a motor, and be recognised—all that sort of thing.”
Eliphalet smiled ironically. “At least it was an honest answer,” he said. “The last girl to whom I put the same question replied: ‘To play Lady Macbeth better than anyone else.’ ”
“How silly!” said Eunice.
And Eliphalet rose to put an end to the interview.
“Do you think you will have something for me?” she hazarded.
“Advice at any time you need it, and, as a little to go on with, don’t lose track of that poor young man.”
Everyone had waited in the dressing-room to hear the result of her interview, and a salvo of “Well’s” and “Did you fix anything?” was fired from the expectant circle.
“I’d rather not say,” she answered evasively. “He particularly said I mustn’t mention it to anyone.”