When Gilbert had gone, Henry, having glanced through the Times, went up to his room and began to write, but he did not continue at his manuscript for very long. The words would not roll lightly off his pen: they fell off and lay inertly about the paper. He was accustomed now to "I wonder," he thought to himself, "whether I shall see Lady Cecily to-day!" Lady Cecily had curiously disappeared from their lives. Gilbert, absorbed in the production of his play, had not spoken of her again, nor had he made any mention of his proposal to leave London and go to Anglesey. He had resigned from the staff of the Daily Echo, and, since he no longer attended first-nights at the theatre, he had not seen Lady Cecily since the night on which "The Ideal Husband" was revived. Henry had said to himself on several occasions that he would go and see Lady Cecily, but he had not done so. He did not care to go alone, and he cared less to ask Gilbert to go with him ... but to-day, as suddenly as she had quitted his thoughts, Lady Cecily came into them again, and, as he sat on top of the omnibus, he hoped that he would see her in the Park. "If not," he said to himself, "I'll call on her this afternoon!" He descended from the 'bus at Hyde Park Corner and hastily entered the Park. He crossed to the Achilles monument and debated with himself as to whether he should sit down or walk about, and decided to sit down. If Lady Cecily were in the Park, he told himself, she would pass his chair some time during the morning. He chose a seat near the railings and sat down and waited. There was a continual flow of carriages and cars, but none of them contained Lady Cecily, and when he had been sitting for al Jimphy wanted to know why it was that he and Henry had not met again since the night that "Cecily let a chap in for a damn play," and reminded him of their engagement to visit the Empire together. "Anyhow," he said, "you can come and lunch with us. Cecily'll be glad to see you. I said I'd come home to lunch if I could find some one worth bringing with me, so that's all right!" "How is Lady Cecily?" Henry asked, as he and Jimphy left the Park together. "Oh, I expect she's all right," Jimphy answered. "I forgot to ask this morning, but if she'd been seedy or anything she'd have told me about it, so I suppose she's all right!" "When's this play of Farlow's coming on?" Jimphy asked on the doorstep of his house. "Wednesday," Henry answered. "Cecily's made me promise to go and see it with her. What sort of a piece is it?" They entered the house as he spoke. "It's excellent...." "Is it comic?" "Well, I suppose it is. He calls it a comedy," Henry said. "So long as there's a laugh in it, I don't mind going to see it. I can't stand these weepy bits. 'Hamlet' and that sort of stuff. Enough to give a chap the pip! Oh, here's Cecily!" Henry turned to look up the stairs down which Lady Cecily was coming, and then he went forward to greet her. "How nice of you," she said. "Has Gilbert come, too?" "No," he answered, chilled by her question. "He has a rehearsal this morning!" "Oh, yes, of course," she said. "His play! I forgot. We're going to see it on Wednesday. I hope it's good!" "It's very good," Henry replied. |