"Then why do you go?" said Gilbert.
"Jimphy wanted to go. Jimphy thinks it's his duty to show himself to the tenants now and again. It's the only return he can make, poor dear, for all that rent they pay!"
Gilbert said "Hm!" and then turned to go to the stalls. "It's Jimphy's birthday to-day," she said, and he turned to her again. "That's why we're here to-night. Together, I mean. He's treating me to a box. Come round and talk to us, Gilbert, after the first act ... and you, too, Mr.... Mr!..."
She fumbled over his name. Gilbert, as is the custom in England when introducing people, had spoken the name so indistinctly that she had not heard it.
"Quinn!" he said.
"Of course," she replied. "Mr. Quinn. I'm awfully stupid about names. You'll come, too?"
"I should like to!"
"Do. Gilbert, don't forget. Jimphy's very morose this evening. He's thirty-one to-day, and he thinks that old age is creeping over him!"
"All right," said Gilbert gloomily, and then he and Henry went to their seats.
"Who is Jimphy?" said Henry, as they walked down the stairs into the auditorium.