“Not,” he shouted, “not during the SMILE!”
“Oh!” she cried remorsefully. “Have I done that again?”
“'Again!' I don't know how many times you've done it!” He flung his arms wide, with hands outspread and fingers vibrating. “You do it every time you get the chance! You do it perpetually! You don't do anything else! It's all you live for!”
He hurled his manuscript violently at the table, Packer making a wonderful pick-up catch of it just as it touched the floor.
“That's all!” And the unhappy artist sank into the chair in a crumpled stupor.
“Ten o'clock to-morrow morning, ladies and gentlemen!” Packer called immediately, with brisk cheerfulness. “Please notice: to-morrow's rehearsal is in the morning. Ten o'clock to-morrow morning!”
“Tell the understudy to wait, Packer,” said the star abysmally, and Packer addressed himself to the departing backs of the company:
“Mr. Potter wants to speak to Miss—Miss—”
“Malone,” prompted the owner of the name, without resentment.
“Wait a moment, Miss Malone,” said Potter, looking up wearily. “Is Mr. Tinker anywhere about?”