Careless whether
she surprised them or not, she instructed the waiter, when her
directions had been complied with, to pour a large wine-glass-full
of the liqueur into a tumbler, and to fill it up from the teapot.
'I can't do it for myself,' she remarked, 'my hand trembles so.'
She drank the strange mixture eagerly, hot as it was. 'Maraschino punch--
will you taste some of it?' she said. 'I inherit the discovery
of this drink. When your English Queen Caroline was on the Continent,
my mother was attached to her Court. That much injured Royal
Person invented, in her happier hours, maraschino punch.
Fondly attached to her gracious mistress, my mother shared her tastes.
And I, in my turn, learnt from my mother. Now, Mr. Westwick,
suppose I tell you what my business is. You are manager of a theatre.
Do you want a new play?'
'I always want a new play--provided it's a good one.'
'And you pay, if it's a good one?'
'I pay liberally--in my own interests.'
'If I write the play, will you read it?'
Francis hesitated. 'What has put writing a play into your head?'
he asked.
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