"Oh, yes; fair. Too many schools, but one must put up with that when one plays Shakespeare."
"Don't you like playing to young people?" Lucy asked, remembering that the young people she had met lately had not greatly liked having to listen to him.
"Well-they don't make the best audience in the world, you know. One would prefer adults. And they get cut rates, of course; which doesn't help the takings. But we look on it as an investment," he added with generous tolerance. "They are the future theatre-goers, and must be trained up in the way they should go."
Lucy thought that the training, if judged by results, had been singularly unsuccessful. The way the young went was in a bee-line to something called Flaming Barriers. It wasn't even true to say that they "didn't go" to the theatre; it was much more positive than that: they fled from it.
However, this was a polite tea-party and no time for home truth. Lucy asked if he was coming to the Demonstration-at which Miss Lux looked annoyed. He had never heard of a Demonstration and was all eagerness. It was years since he had seen anyone do any more P.T. than putting their toes under the wardrobe and waving their torso about. Dancing? Goodness, was there dancing? But of course he would come. And what was more, they should come back with him to the theatre and have supper with him afterwards.
"I know Catherine hates the theatre, but you could stand it for once, couldn't you, Catherine? It's Richard III on Friday night, so you wouldn't have to put up with me in a romantic effort. It isn't a good play, but the production is wonderful, even if it is I who say it that shouldn't."
"A criminal libel on a fine man, a blatant piece of political propaganda, and an extremely silly play," Lux opined.
Adrian smiled broadly, like a schoolboy. "All right, but sit through it and you shall see how good a supper the Midland at Larborough can provide when egged on by a miserable actor. They even have a Johannisberger."
A faint colour showed in Lux's cheek at that.
"You see I remember what you like. Johannisberger, as you once remarked, tastes of flowers, and will take the stink of the theatre out of your nostrils."