Miss Hamilton by this time was spreading a yellow film over her face. She asked Martyn to open the box and, on seeing three orchids that lay, crisp and fabulous on their mossy bed, sang ‘Darling!’ on two clear notes.

The voice beyond the wall responded. ‘Hallo?’

‘They’re quite perfect. Thank you, my sweet.’

‘Good,’ the voice said. Martyn laid the box on the dressing-table and saw the card: ‘Until tomorrow. Adam.’

She got through the next half-hour pretty successfully, she hoped. There seemed to be no blunders and Miss Hamilton continued charming and apparently delighted. There were constant visitors. A tap on the door would be followed by a head looking round and always by the invitation to come in. First there was Miss Gay Gainsford, a young and rather intense person with a pretty air of deference who seemed to be in a state of extreme anxiety.

‘Well, darling,’ Miss Hamilton said, glancing at her in the glass: ‘Everything under strict control?’

Miss Gainsford said unevenly: ‘I suppose so. I’m trying to be good and sort of biddable, do you know, but underneath I realize that I’m seething like a cauldron. Butterflies the size of bats in the stomach.’

‘Well, of course. But you mustn’t be terrified really, because whatever happens we all know John’s written a good play, don’t we?’

‘I suppose we do.’

‘We do indeed. And Gay—you’re going to make a great personal success in this part. I want you to tell yourself you are. Do you know? Tell yourself.’

‘I wish I could believe it.’ Miss Gainsford clasped her hands and raised them to her lips. ‘It’s not very easy,’ she said, ‘when he—John—Dr Rutherford—so obviously thinks I’m a misfit. Everybody keeps telling me it’s a marvellous part but for me it’s twenty sides of hopeless hell. Honestly, it is.’

‘Gay, what nonsense. John may seem hard—’

‘Seem?’

‘Well, he may be hard, then. He’s famous for it, after all. But you’ll get your reward, my dear, when the time comes. Remember,’ said Miss Hamilton with immense gravity, ‘we all have faith in you.’

‘Of course,’ said Miss Gainsford with an increased quaver in her voice, ‘it’s too marvellous your feeling like that about it. You’ve been so miraculously kind. And Uncle Ben, of course. Both of you. I can’t get over it.’

‘But, my dear, that’s utter nonsense. You’re going to be one of our rising young actresses.’

‘You do really think so!’

‘But yes. We all do.’ Her voice lost a little colour and then freshened. ‘We all do,’ she repeated firmly and turned back to her glass.

Miss Gainsford went to the door and hesitated there. ‘Adam doesn’t,’ she said loudly.

Miss Hamilton made a quick expressive gesture toward the next dressing-room and put her fingers to her lips. ‘He’ll be really angry if he hears you say that,’ she whispered and added aloud with somewhat forced casualness: ‘Is John down this morning?’

‘He’s on-stage. I think he said he’d like to speak to you.’