"Oh, that wouldn't be kind. Let's wait a moment."
The librarian came scurrying up with a list of references which he presented to Gabby gallantly. She thanked him, folded the list and handed it to Lennox.
"What for?" he asked as they left.
"You wanted a production number, didn't you? Here it is."
"That was last week. I'm off the show now. Remember?"
"You'll be on it again," Gabby said confidently.
"Who taught you to say the right thing at the right time?"
"Nobody. I just tell the truth and shame the devil—Don't you dare touch me. Ouch! Oh quick! There's a taxi."
The Yellow Sea was packed with the early dinner crowd. The waiters ran and shouted. The managers darted from table to table, scribbling orders. The swinging doors of the kitchen banged open and shut giving flashing glimpses of a giant smoky room from which came the crackle of hot oil and excited chefs.
"This is impossible," Lennox grunted. "I'll never get a chance to ask anything in this mad-house."