They got up
on the insecure thing and tried to dance; that was all she knew.
During the entire period, and for that matter, right up to the opening
night she never saw a bar of music except what stood on the piano rack,
nor a written word of the lyrics she was supposed to sing. Rose couldn't
sing very much. She had a rather timorous, throaty little contralto that
contrasted oddly with the fine free thrill of her speaking voice. But
nobody had asked her what her voice was, nor indeed, whether she could
sing at all. She picked up the tunes quickly enough, by ear, but the
words she was always a little uncertain about.
It all seemed too utterly haphazard to be possible, but Rose decided not
to ask any of the authorities about this, because, while the possibility
of Grant's return dangled over her head, she didn't want to remind
anybody how green she was. But she finally questioned one of her
colleagues in the chorus about it, and was told that back at the
beginning of things, they had had their voices tried by the musical
director, who had conducted three or four music rehearsals before John
Galbraith arrived.
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