It was not, of course, until after a good many rehearsals that Rose
could have given a connected account of it like that. They worked for
three hours on this first occasion, merely getting through the first
act--a miserable three hours, too, for Rose, owing to a little
misfortune that befell her right at the beginning.
The glow of determination Galbraith had inspired her with, to put her
own shoulder to the wheel and do her very topmost best, for the one
great desideratum, the success of the show, had kept her studying her
little handful of lines long after she supposed she knew them perfectly.
They weren't very satisfactory lines to study--just the smallest of
conversational small change, little ejaculations of delight or dismay,
acquiescence or dissent. But the trouble with them was, they were, for
the most part, exactly the last expressions that a smart young woman of
the type she was supposed to represent would use.
So, remembering what Galbraith had said about everybody down to the last
chorus-man doing the best he knew for the success of the show, Rose
sought him out, for a minute, just before the rehearsal began, and asked
if she might change two of her lines a little.
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