John looked at him. Hook-nosed he wore an ingratiating smile and his voice purred as he spoke; when he laughed he emitted a high falsetto note. John's observation was broken by the entrance of an amazing spectacle into the charmed circle. A man, so diminutive that his dress shirt dominated him like a plate on a plate-holder, was shaking hands with Lewis. On his fat nose he balanced, precariously, a pair of pince-nez through which he peered bemusedly. The tips of his chubby hands just emerged from two prominent cuffs, his legs being wholly lost in corkscrew trousers falling over the feet. "Good heavens!" cried John, "just look at--" But another apparition joined the circle. Nature had created him as an antidote to the little man. He was huge; a behemoth. His heavy jaw, the massive head, the long teeth, made him a perfect ogre, and in fulfilment he scowled at his companions. His large hands hooked themselves by the thumbs on to the pockets of voluminous trousers. "They belong to us," said Bailey, enjoying the shock he administered. John's pride in his vocation had been too obvious not to afford amusement to a confirmed cynic who had sat in the stalls for twenty years, and had never betrayed the weakness of enthusiasm. "But--but surely," said John, "the newspapers don't send people like these--what about their dignity?" "Dignity! There's no such thing in journalism. That belongs to the leader-writer--in print." "Are they all like this?" "Most of us," replied Bailey, lighting a cigarette from the stub of another. "We're working 'subs' by day and deadhead gentlemen by night--the more respectable are civil servants--and they are the least civil critics. Still--there are a few presentable ones; we have the Grand Old Man--he's not here yet. He is a perfect contrast to the Nut-food man--they'll be here later." A curly-headed young man in a fur coat strolled in. He gave himself a side glance in the long mirror, approved of his classic beauty and passed on. Everybody nodded to him and he acknowledged their homage graciously. Several elderly ladies and a flashily dressed actress hurried after him into the theatre. "That's Ronnie Mayfair--the actor. Freddie Pond will be here soon. I've never known him to miss a first night."