They explained that it was, in a manner of speaking, their life-work,
that they had actually started it about ten years ago when they were
careless lads. Inevitably, it was spotted here and there with smart
topical hits of the early years of the century; but that, they said,
would be all right. They could freshen it up in a couple of evenings;
it was simply a matter of deleting allusions to pro-Boers and
substituting lines about Marconi shares and mangel-wurzels. "It'll be
all right," they assured Roland; "this is real revue."

In times of trouble there is always a point at which one may say, "Here
is the beginning of the end." This point came with Roland at the
commencement of the rehearsals. Till then he had not fully realized the
terrible nature of the production for which he had made himself
responsible. Moreover, it was rehearsals which gave him his first clear
insight into the character of Miss Verepoint.

Miss Verepoint was not at her best at rehearsals. For the first time,
as he watched her, Roland found himself feeling that there was a case
to be made out for the managers who had so consistently kept her in the
background. Miss Verepoint, to use the technical term, threw her weight
about. There were not many good lines in the script of act one of "Pass
Along, Please!" but such as there were she reached out for and grabbed
away from their owners, who retired into corners, scowling and
muttering, like dogs robbed of bones. She snubbed everybody, Roland
included.

* * * * *

Roland sat in the cold darkness of the stalls and watched her,
panic-stricken. Like an icy wave, it had swept over him what marriage