Olive cut in, “I shan’t listen to that! That’s mere ill temper and untrue. The play is a waste of Mark’s time and of his money.--Between your very exaggerated loyalty to Ronny Dufford and your liking for this doll of an actor you’ve probably cost Mark three or four thousand pounds. He produced this play entirely to please you. Don’t tease him any farther. Don’t try to make him bring this nonsense to New York. You’ve a dreadful power over Mark. Don’t trade on it! You’re behaving like a spoiled child. You disappoint me!” The black eyes widened. Margot pushed herself back from the bed with both hands, staring. She said, “I--I dare say.... Sorry.” “You should be!... He’s done everything he can to keep you amused. He isn’t a millionaire. You’ve been treated like a mistress of extravagant tastes, not like a daughter! There is such a thing as gratitude. He’s humoured you in regard to this silly play and in regard to Rand. Gurdy and Mr. Russell tell me that Cora Boyle can make herself a disgusting nuisance now that the play’s a failure. You’ve pushed Mark into this very bad bargain. Don’t make it worse by whimpering, now, and don’t--” “Oh, please!” “Then please bite on the bullet and let’s hear no more of this. When Mark tells you he’ll drop the play, don’t tease him.” Margot said, “Poor Ronny Dufford! I thought--” “I’m sorry Ronny’s broke. It’s the destiny of younger sons whose fathers had a taste for baccarat. I shall start for Japan as soon as I’ve seen the Walling opened. I shan’t go in a very easy frame of mind if I feel that you’ve constituted yourself a charitable committee of one with Mark as treasurer.” Olive laughed. Margot said, “Yes, m’lady,” and made a curtsey, then fluttered off to telephone for breakfast, began to chuckle and the delicate chime of that mirth was soothing, after the rasp of Olive’s tirade. The girl seemed unresentful. Olive had never so seriously scolded her. Now she thought that she should talk to Mark about his folly. This idolatry was delightful to watch but unhealthy, a temptation to Margot. The girl had other pets in London. There was an amateur actress constantly wobbling on the edge of professional engagements. Two or three of the young painters experimented in stage setting. She deliberated and listed these artists to Mark while they were driving about the broad city in a hired victoria. “All nice children and hopeless dabblers, old man. Beware of them or you’ll have the house filled with immigrants. Rand’s a giant beside any of them.” “The little man ain’t so bad. Guess I’ll put him in as leading man for a woman in a Scotch play I’m going to work on after Christmas. That’ll shut Cora Boyle up. He’ll do, all right. I’ll offer him the part when I tell him ‘Todgers’ goes to Cain’s.” “To--where?”