"Well, I read it very carefully," he began. "By the way, before I forget it, 'The Bomb-Shell's' doing very well on tour."
Eric chewed his lips impatiently. He would gladly hear about "The Bomb-Shell" later, but he now wanted to pin Manders to a criticism of "The Singing Bird."
"Well, let's keep the wolf from the door as long as we can."
The subject dismissed, he looked up expectantly and found Manders wholly absorbed with his oysters, rejecting red pepper for black, shaking a cautious drop of tabasco vinegar on each, adding a dash of lemon-juice and, when all else was ready, sipping his champagne with preliminary caution. The play would have to be cut about, then; perhaps the actor-manager was disappointed with his own part.…
"Well, let's hear all about it," Manders began heartily. "When did you find time to write it? After you'd got 'The Bomb-Shell' out of the way?"
"Not immediately. I knocked off all my other work and concentrated on this thing day and night for three months."
"Three months? You're a quick worker. You know, boy, that would have been a better play if you'd given more time to it."
Manders slipped three oysters into his mouth in rapid succession, and Eric smiled with indulgent patience. One hard-dying school of critics always made quick work a synonym for hasty work.
"I managed to crowd about three years into the three months."
"Ah, that means you're writing with your nerves! Now, if I were you, I'd put the thing aside for six months, clear it out of your head; then, when you come to it with a fresh mind——"