"In the middle of next month."
"You can't make it later?"
"Are you afraid you won't be able to attend the first night?" he laughed.
"God forbid! But I shan't have time to complete your education in a month. Now, I'm talking seriously. Put that play off! You're only a child, you've made a mint of money out of this present abomination. If you'll wait till I've educated you——"
Her pupils had dilated until the irises were swamped in black. The early warm flush had shrunk and intensified into two vivid splashes of colour over her cheek-bones. Neurotic, Eric decided; but arresting and magnetic.
"And what do you propose to teach me?" he enquired.
As he spoke, he was conscious of a lull in the conversation. Without looking round, he knew that every one was watching them and that both their voices had risen a tone.
"Life!" she cried. "You've never met men and women. I told George Oakleigh so that night. That's why the public loves your play."
Eric turned to Lady Poynter.
"I have a new play coming out next month," he explained, "and Lady Barbara wants me to hang it up till she's taught me—did you say 'life'?"