"Well, Babe St. Maur is pretty smart. And she's got muscles. She was one of the eight girls who made the living bridge—"
"Bill," said Bundle desperately, "I went to see Jimmy Thesiger yesterday morning."
"Good old Jimmy," said Bill. "Well, as I was telling you, Babe's pretty smart. You've got to be nowadays. She can put it over on most theatrical people. If you want to live, be high-handed, that's what Babe says. And mind you, she's the goods all right. She can act—it's marvellous how that girl can act. She'd not much chance in 'Damn Your Eyes'—just swamped in a pack of good-looking girls. I said why not try the legitimate stage—you know, Mrs. Tanqueray—that sort of stuff—but Babe just laughed—"
"Have you seen Jimmy at all?"
"Saw him this morning. Let me see, where was I? Oh, yes, I hadn't got to the rumpus yet. And mind you it was jealousy—sheer, spiteful jealousy. The other girl wasn't a patch on Babe for looks and she knew it. So she went behind her back—"
Bundle resigned herself to the inevitable and heard the whole story of the unfortunate circumstances which had led up to Babe St. Maur's summary disappearance from the cast of "Damn Your Eyes." It took a long time. When Bill finally paused for breath and sympathy, Bundle said:
"You're quite right, Bill, it's a rotten shame. There must be a lot of jealousy about—"
"The whole theatrical world's rotten with it."
"It must be. Did Jimmy say anything to you about coming down to the Abbey next week?"
For the first time, Bill gave his attention to what Bundle was saying.