find it staring at you through the ugly day-
light on coming out of the blessed fictive
world.

DORRIFORTH. Ah, you touch there on
one of the minor sorrows of life, That's an
illustration of the general change that comes
to pass in us as we grow older, if we have
ever loved the stage: the fading of the
glamour and the mystery that surround it.

AUBERON. Do you call it a minor sor-
row? It's one of the greatest. And noth-
ing can mitigate it.

AMICIA. Wouldn't it be mitigated a little
if the stage were a trifle better? You must
remember how that has changed.

AUBERON. Never, never: it's the same
old stage. The change is in ourselves.

FLORENTIA. Well, I never would have
given an evening to what we have just
seen. If one could have put it in between
luncheon and tea, well enough. But one's
evenings are too precious.

DORRIFORTH. Note that--it's very im-
portant.

FLORENTIA. I mean too precious for that
sort of thing.

AUBERON. Then you didn't sit spell-

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