As the curtain went up, he sat down beside her and, after a quick glance at the stage, began to inspect the house. Her hand slipped into his, and he heard a whispered "Cheer up! It's going to be a tremendous success. I will it to be!" Then his attention went back to the house. Why the devil couldn't people take the trouble to arrive in time? Pushing their way in late, blocking the view.… Mrs. Shelley, of all people. He knew her well enough to speak plainly about it.… The house was very quiet, very cold; expectant, perhaps, but they ought to be warming now.… A slip—and another! It was curious that a woman like Mabel Elstree could go on rehearsing and being pulled up over the same thing again and again without ever learning—a moderately intelligent woman too—working at her own job.… The last week had been thrown away.…
But in all the rehearsals he had never noticed how this opening dragged. Manders had never criticized it (one of the few things he hadn't tried to cut about); and it was dragging. In a moment people would be yawning and talking to one another; the pit would become noisy with its feet; already there was a rustle; if they would only look at the stage instead of trying to learn their programmes by heart! They should have done that before! And still the house was cold.… God in heaven! small blame to it!
Eric sat back with tightly shut mouth, then grew suddenly rigid. There was a single quick laugh, the herald for gusty laughter rising simultaneously from a dozen different parts; instead of stopping, it swelled and engulfed the house. Ah, thank God! that sea of vacant, stiff faces had broken! The house was alive and warm. The players, pausing of necessity, breathed thanksgiving before returning to dialogue which had become suddenly imbued with new strength and finish.
Eric felt Barbara's lips at his ear.
"Didn't I say I'd will it for you?" she whispered.
"It might go quite well," he answered, unsuccessfully nonchalant. "Every one's in a good temper now."
"And you can let go my hand for a minute!" She winced and put one knuckle into her mouth. "I stood it as long as I could, but you've been driving my rings into my unhappy finger—All right, darling! kiss the place to make it well. I could see you weren't enjoying yourself, but you wanted me to feel it, too. So sweet of you!"
In the first interval they stayed in the box and allowed themselves to be seen; during the whole of the second an army of their friends laid siege to the door with greetings to Barbara and congratulations to Eric. He would have liked to smoke a cigarette outside with some of his old colleagues; he would have liked still better to think it all over in peace. This was going to be a greater success than the first play! And Barbara, with tears in her eyes, was saying "Come and congratulate us!"
Eric had little idea who flooded the box during that tempestuous ten minutes. Lady Maitland was there with an air of having written the play or at least of having discovered the author. And Gerald Deganway, who never missed a first night, simpering falsetto congratulations. And Colonel Waring and Agnes: he remembered them, because he was so much surprised to see them … and he had wanted to introduce Agnes to Babs, and there had been no opportunity.… And Colonel Grayle and Sonia O'Rane, who invited them to come back for supper.… There was violent reaction after his early nervousness, and he found himself within an inch of giggling. When the lights were lowered and he had hurried the last visitors from the box, he sat down and buried his face in his hands. How long it was he never knew, before Barbara leaned over him, pulling gently at his arm.
"Anything wrong?" he asked.