'It's in the afternoon, and it's not very easy for me to get away in the afternoon, but to please you, I'll take you--see? I loathe music (except musical comedies), and I think if ever there was a set of appalling rotters--I feel inclined to knock them off the music-stool the way they go on at Lady Everard's--at the same time, some of them are very cultured and intelligent chaps, and _she's_ a very charming woman. One can't get in a word edgeways, but _when_ one does--well, she listens, and laughs at one's jokes, and that sort of thing. I think I'm rather glad you're not musical, Edith, it takes a woman away from her husband.' 'Not musical! Oh dear! I thought I was,' said Edith. 'Oh, anyhow, not when I'm here, so it doesn't matter. Besides, your being appreciative and that sort of thing is very nice. Look what a social success you've had at the Everards', for instance, through listening and understanding these things; it is not an accomplishment to throw away. No, Edith dear, I should tell you, if you would only listen to me, to keep up your music, but you won't and there's an end of it...That soufflé was really very good. Cook's improving. For a plain little cook like that, with such small wages, and no kitchenmaid, she does quite well.' 'Oh yes, she's not bad,' said Edith. She knew that if Bruce had been aware the cook's remuneration was adequate he would not have enjoyed his dinner. * * * * * They were in the box in the pretty theatre. Lady Everard, very smart in black, sparkling with diamonds, was already there with Aylmer. Vincy had not arrived. The house was crammed to the ceiling. Gay, electrical music of exhilarating futility was being played by the orchestra. The scene consisted of model cottages; a chorus of pretty girls in striped cotton were singing. The heroine came on; she was well known for her smile, which had become public property on picture post-cards and the Obosh bottles. She was dressed as a work-girl also, but in striped silk with a real lace apron and a few diamonds. Then the hero arrived. He wore a red shirt, brown boots, and had a tenor voice. He explained an interesting little bit of the plot, which included an eccentric will and other novelties. The humorous dandy of the play was greeted with shouts of joy by the chorus and equal enthusiasm by the audience. He agreed to change places with the hero, who wished to give up one hundred and forty thousand pounds a year to marry the heroine. 'Very disinterested,' murmured Lady Everard. 'Very nice of him, I'm sure. It isn't many people that would do a thing like that. A nice voice, too. Of course, this is not what _I_ call good music, but it's very bright in its way, and the words--I always think these words are so clever. So witty. Listen to them--do listen to them, dear Mrs Ottley.' They listened to the beautiful words sung, of which the refrain ran as follows:--