Apparently a number of people found the spectacle so abhorrent that they actually blacked-out.
IX
“Ginger ...” Agnes began lightly, “when did you first realize that Sally Hastings was perhaps ... well, a bit common?”
“Agnes, it was Bitsy who knew it first,” exclaimed Ginger Horton with perfect candor.
“The dog?” asked Grand.
“What can you mean by that, Ginger?” Agnes wanted to know, dubious herself, yet casting her nephew a quick and cutting look to show where her allegiance lay even so.
“She didn’t really love our Bitsy, Agnes,” said Ginger narrowly, “... and Bitsy couldn’t have cared less I assure you!”
** ***
Grand’s work in cinema management and film editing had apparently not diminished his strong feeling for dramatic theatre, so that with the cultural ascension of television drama, he was all the more keen to get, as he put it, “back on the boards.”
“There’s no biz like show biz,” he liked to quip to the other troupers, “... oh, we have our ups and downs, heck yes—but I wouldn’t trade one whiff of grease paint on opening night, by gosh, for all the darn châteaux of France!”