"So you helped him add another one to his score," she hissed, her acid eyes raking Lennox.
"Who?" he asked, bewildered.
"The Bleutcher."
"Maybe she added him to her score."
The ballet girls came down the stairs from their balcony dressing room in geisha costumes, and clustered around the rosin box, shuffling their feet. Across, in the left wings, the ballet boys assembled, dressed in Lt. Pinkerton whites. Stacy ran off stage, stripping off his dinner jacket to change for his second spot.
"Thanks, pal!" he whispered bitterly.
"For what?"
"For Typhoid Olga. Ask me a favor some time."
"I'll tell Kay."
Grabinett shot out from behind a drop, arguing furiously and soundlessly with the uniformed theater fireman. He stopped long enough to blink at Lennox.