"Who told you?" demanded Jenny.
"Madge Wilson did."
"Don't take any notice of her," Maudie Chapman advised at this point. "You jest shut up, Elsie Crauford. Always making mischief."
"I'm tired of Jenny Pearl's always knowing better than anyone without being told off."
"Told off! Who by? You?" gasped Jenny.
Then Madge Wilson herself came into the dressing-room.
"Hullo, duck," she said, surprised by Jenny's apparent reëntry into society.
"Are you speaking to me, Madge Wilson? Because I don't want to talk to you. A nice friend. Hark at your fine friends, girls. They're the rotters that take you off behind your back."
"Whatever's the matter?" Madge asked.
"Yes, you don't know, do you? But I wouldn't be a sneak like you! I'd say out what I thought and not care for anyone. I wasn't getting a jolly fine time for nothing? And what about you, Mrs. Straightcut? But that's the way. Girls you think are your friends, girls you take out and give a good time, they're the first to turn round on you. I wonder you haven't all gone hoarse with the way you've talked me to pieces these last weeks. I can hear you mumbling and whispering in corners. 'Have you heard about Jenny Pearl? Isn't it shocking? Oh, I do think it's a dreadful thing. What a terrible girl.' God, and look at you. Married women! Yes, and what have you married? Why, there isn't a girl in this dressing-room whose husband can afford to keep her. Husbands! Why, they're no better than—"