At six a.m. it was decided that rehearsal would resume at one o’clock in the afternoon. As we were about to leave, too tired to care any longer about anything, the director came up and said he was sure I must have misunderstood him. He would indeed be sorry if I left the show or if he had hurt my feelings. What he had really meant to say was[say was] that the Oscar Wolfe part lends credence to the movement and meaning of the play. I was glad to leave it at that.
The following afternoon, before evening rehearsals, Hope and I stopped at a drugstore a few steps from the theatre. There we found Miss Darnell sitting in a booth sipping a coke. She motioned us over.
“The play won’t open Monday,” she said. “I’ve made my decision.”
We agreed wholeheartedly.
“But have you heard the latest?”
“No,” we said.
“The play that follows us in is falling apart, too. An old-time[old-time] actor in it, pretty well known for his paranoia, slugged a young actress for a remark she made and someone else jumped in and put him in the hospital.”
“What’s next with our show?” I said. “Has a replacement been found for our drunken friend?”
“Yes. He’s busy now rehearsing his lines.”
“This is a world such as I’ve never been in,” I said. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”