“What do you advise?”
“If there is time, I should advise her to remodel herself a little. Not to choke so much; she spits at me like a llama, you know. Not to be so inspired. There is too much saliva in her madness, I think.”
“My dear fellow,” broke in Mackay, “you miss the whole conception of the part. She is mad, stark, staring mad.”
“I daresay I’m wrong,” said the Babe.
There was an awkward pause, broken by Mackay who picked up his coat abruptly.
“Very well,” said he. “Take her in hand yourselves. I must be going. We rehearse again at five, I think.”
A moment’s silence followed and they all looked at each other with the air of detected conspirators.
“Will you help us?” asked Dr. Propert at length of the Babe.
“Do you mean, will I coach Cassandra?”
“Yes.”