“What did you think of me? Did I look anything approaching graceful? I felt like a bundle of straw!”
“You looked—wonderful!” he said fervently, and she shot a quick glance at him and dropped her eyes.
“Perhaps you’re prejudiced,” she said demurely.
“I have that feeling too,” said Michael. “What is inside?” He pointed.
“Inside the tower? Nothing, except a lot of rock and wild bush, and a pathetic dwarf tree. I loved it.”
He laughed.
“Just now you said you were glad it was over. I presume you were referring to the play and not to the interior of the tower?”
She nodded, a twinkle in her eye.
“Mr. Knebworth says he may have to take a night shot if he’s not satisfied with the day picture. Poor Mr. Connolly! He’ll throw up his part.”
At that moment Jack Knebworth’s voice was heard.