Drink this!” He poured out a glass of wine with a firm hand, and held it to her lips. The stage manager came out from the wings, and taking her hand led her off. For a while they stood there, silent, motionless, staring at the doorway where still a few strings of the bamboo curtain swayed and twisted, agitated by the Wastrel's passage. Wood, when he does return, I'd send him about his business. But the father, to go his way forever alone! The iron in the man!—the iron in this child of his! Wanting a little love, a caress now and then. He's going to ask you to Prom. Keep up the clamour for five minutes, and I'll finish it.
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