Under her breath Stella Croyle murmured passionately, "Oh, you minx!"
As the record ran out a storm of applause burst from the gallery.
"Oh, Joan, Joan," cried Harold Jupp, shaking his head reproachfully. "There's the poet kicked right across the room."
"Where?" asked Harry Luttrell, looking round for the book.
"Oh, it doesn't matter," said Joan impatiently. "It's only an old volume of Browning."
Cries of "Shame" broke indignantly from the race-goers, and Joan received them with imperturbable indifference. Harry Luttrell, however, went on his knees and discovering the book beneath a distant sofa, carefully dusted it.
"Did you ever read 'How they Brought the Good News from Ghent to Aix'?" he asked.
The audience in the gallery waited in dead silence for Joan Whitworth's answer. It came unhesitatingly clear and in a voice of high enthusiasm.
"Isn't it the most wonderful poem he ever wrote?"
The gallery broke into screams, catcalls, hisses and protests against Joan's shameless recantation.