Mr Goble gnawed his cigar.
“I’ve been in the show business fifteen years …”
“I know. And this sort of thing has never happened to you before. One gets new experiences.”
Mr Goble cocked his cigar at a fierce angle, and glared at Wally. Something told him that Wally’s sympathies were not wholly with him.
“They can’t do this sort of thing to me!” he growled.
“Well, they are doing it to someone, aren’t they,” said Wally, “and, if it’s not you, who is it?”
“I’ve a damned good mind to fire them all!”
“A corking idea! I can’t see a single thing wrong with it except that it would hang up the production for another five weeks and lose you your bookings and cost you a week’s rent of this theatre for nothing and mean having all the dresses made over and lead to all your principals going off and getting other jobs. These trifling things apart, we may call the suggestion a bright one.”
“You talk too damn much!” said Mr Goble, eyeing him with distaste.
“Well, go on, you say something. Something sensible.”