A sudden misgiving smote her. "Oh, Brice, you ought to have gone! Why didn't you go?"
"It must have been a deep subconsciousness of the fillet and mushrooms. Or perhaps I didn't quite like to think of your lunching alone."
"Oh, you dear, faithful little soul!" she cried. The tears came into her eyes, and she ran round the table to kiss him several times on the top of his head.
He kept on eating as well as he could, and when she got back to her place, "Of course, it would have been a good thing for me to go to the Players'," he teased, "for it would have pleased Grayson, and I should probably have met some other actors and managers there, and made interest with them provisionally for my play, if he shouldn't happen to want it."
"Oh, I know it," she moaned. "You have ruined yourself for me. I'm not worth it. No, I'm not! Now, I want you to promise, dearest, that you'll never mind me again, but lunch or dine, or breakfast, or sup whenever anybody asks you?"
"Well, I can't promise all that, quite."
"I mean, when the play is at stake."
"Oh, in that case, yes."
"What in the world did you say to Mr. Grayson?"
"Very much what I have said to you: that I hated to leave you to lunch alone here."