“Look here, that’s hardly playing the game, o’ man,” said Manning. “You waste an hour of the Guv’nor’s time, and then put up a suggestion like that!”
“Yes—yes—I see. I beg your pardon, Mr. Cardomay. I apologise. Good afternoon, and thank you very, very much.”
After ten days the second version of “A Man’s Way” was delivered, and Eliphalet started to read it in great excitement. When he had finished, he was possessed with the curious conviction that he was mad. Accordingly he sent for Manning, and fluttered round while the stage-manager snorted through the manuscript.
“Well, Manning?”
“It’s all wrong. Parsons don’t act like that.”
Eliphalet nodded. “And they don’t talk like that,” he added.
Manning whisked over some pages. “Look at this bit, Guv’nor. ‘Get some grub and a good sleep.’ ” (Odd he should have chosen that line.) “People wouldn’t stick it.”
“Yes, yes—absurd! He should be soothing—inspired!”
“Then, again, this stage direction: ‘Takes Pauline by the shoulders and pushes her through the French window into the night, saying, “As you can’t be mentally cauterised, you’d better be mentally cooled.” ’ ”
“Shocking!”