“Oh, I s’pose they’ve told you. I’m too easy. I dropped a lot o’ money in putting up that revue—bother the name—for Mamie Cockayne. First one, then another”; and he made a gesture, waving the stump of his cigarette comprehensively.
While he brought out a fresh cigarette Mildred came sidling along their row of stalls, and whispered to Emmie.
“Tell him how bad we think Miss Millbank.”
“Who’s she?” asked Mr. Leahurst, when Mildred had sidled away again. “Understudy?”
“No, a friend of mine. Miss Parker.”
“Nice ladylike person! S’pose she is a lady, if it comes to that—being a friend of yours.”
Emmie presently conveyed to him the damaging opinion about Miss Millbank. “She doesn’t seem to understand anything, and she is so hard—really as hard as nails.”
“Is that so?” said Mr. Leahurst, glancing round at the stage.
“Of course, it’s a Marian D’Arcy part; and Mr. Beckett says if you imagine Miss D’Arcy doing it, you see at once how dreadfully Miss Millbank falls short.”