But, do you know,
I agree with her."
"Oh, I don't care a _damn_!" said Mr. Harold Mills. "Go as far as you
like. I don't recognize the piece now. What it'll be when you--butchers
get through with it ...!" He flung out his hands and stalked away.
"Go find Mr. Quan," said Galbraith to Rose, "and tell him to mark those
changes of yours in the book. Tell him I said so."
It was, though, a pretty unsatisfactory victory. Everybody was grinning;
for the tale spread fast, and while Rose knew it wasn't primarily at
her, her sensations were those of a perfectly serious, well-meaning
child, in adult company, who, in all innocence has just made a remark
which, for some reason incomprehensible to him, has convulsed one member
of it with fury, and the others with laughter. More or less she could
imagine where the joke lay. Harold had evidently been quarreling with
pretty much all of the principals, over more or less necessary changes
in his precious text, until everybody was rather on edge about it,
loaded and primed for all sorts of explosions; when, cheerfully along
came Rose, a perfectly green young chorus-girl, unsuspectingly carrying
the match for the mine, or the straw for the camel, whichever way you
wanted to put it.
Pages:
454
455
456
457
458
459
460
461
462
463
464
465
466
467
468
469
470
471
472
473
474
475
476
477
478