“All right. It’s going very badly. Mr. Russell, the director, has a free for all row with Mr. Rand every day. Rand acts like the last of a ballet. He’s putting everything back. He’s out of the picture all the time. Word of honour, Margot, the play hasn’t nine lives. It’s thin. It’ll take a lot of work to make it go. Russell’s one of the best directors going and he knows what he’s doing. Rand simply runs all over the stage like that clown at the Hippodrome.” “That’s rather the way it was played in London. Of course, that’s no excuse. Have dad scold Rand.” “Be pretty awkward for Mark--scolding Cora Boyle’s husband.” Margot said, “What utter tosh!” “No, it’s not. Mark’s old fashioned--sensitive about things like that. And Rand might take it as spite. Cora Boyle’s back from California, Russell tells me. She’s a fearful liar. If she hears that Mark jumped on her husband she’ll tell all her friends that Mark’s simply a swine. You don’t know how gossip travels and gets--distorted. Once last May Mark said that he didn’t like a gown that some woman was wearing in a play we’d been to the night before. He said that at lunch in the Claridge. Next day the woman’s husband came into the office and wanted to thrash Mark. By the time the story got to him it had swelled up like a balloon. This fellow had got it that Mark said his wife looked like a streetwalker and acted like one.--It’s all very awkward. Couldn’t you--” “Oh, look here! Because I suggested Cossy Rand for the Earl I’m not going to drynurse him!--I think you’re frightfully hypersensitive about his being married to Cora Boyle. They’re hardly ever together. It’s taking a theatrical menage as seriously as--” “Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Gurdy broke in, watching the red streaks mount her face, “I’m sorry! Let’s drop it. You know Rand. I thought you might write him a line and tell him to calm down. That was all. Mark’s working himself sick over ‘Captain Salvador’ and that’s an important production. Every one’s interested in it. Some of the critics have read it and think it’s the best American play in years. After all, you got Mark into this ‘Todgers’ thing. He’s doing it to please you. He’ll worry if he has to--” Margot laughed, whipped the ball away neatly with one foot and tossed her hair back. She said, “I’ll write Rand, of course. Of course I don’t want ‘Todgers’ to get a black eye. I’ll send him a note and tell him to carry on. Perhaps he’s rather opinionated. Where’s he stopping?” “The Knickerbocker.” She yawned, “I’ll write him, then. Staying for dinner?” She turned and roamed off in her swaying fashion. Directly, a motor swung about the house. One of the neighbours had come to take the girl driving. She waved to Gurdy and disappeared. He resented the waving of the brown hand. It was impossible not to resent her kind mentions of his mother and sisters before Lady Ilden and Mark.