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"Well, am I refined enough, do you think?" "I shall be only too happy if you will join us," said Mr Pilkington promptly. The long-haired composer looked doubtful. He struck a note up in the treble, then whirled round on his stool. "If you don't mind my mentioning it, Otie, we have twelve girls already." "Then we must have thirteen," said Otis Pilkington firmly. "Unlucky number," argued Mr Trevis.
Trevis and I wrote it when we were in college together, and all our friends thought it exceptionally brilliant. My aunt, as I say, was opposed to the venture. She holds the view that I am not a good man of business. In a sense, perhaps, she is right. Temperamentally, no doubt, I am more the artist.
"Won't you take a seat, Miss . . ." "Mariner," prompted Jill. "Thank you." "Miss Mariner. May I introduce Mr Roland Trevis?" The man at the piano bowed. His black hair heaved upon his skull like seaweed in a ground swell. "My name is Pilkington. Otis Pilkington." The uncomfortable silence which always follows introductions was broken by the sound of the telephone-bell on the desk.
He stopped abruptly. "What do you mean? Is she ill?" "No, not now, but she may be." Thayor strode rapidly to the door. "Come back here don't be a fool. She is asleep after the Trevis dance. The child did not get home till after three." "And you let her get ill?" he cried. "Sit down, will you and listen. Dr.
He had found exactly what he had expected to find, a mangled caricature of his brain-child playing to a house half empty and wholly indifferent. The only redeeming feature, he thought vindictively, as he remembered what Roland Trevis had said about the cost of musical productions, was the fact that the new numbers were undoubtedly better than those which his collaborator had originally supplied.
Of these, if anything transpires to me, it must be through Jack Payne, Lord Lothian, or Trevis, and these are such confused and uncertain channels that there will be no dependence upon the veracity of them. Ils ne laissent pas pourtant de donner leur avis de temps en temps, et d'en parler apres, a ce que j'ai oui dire.
Thomas' with Roland Trevis' sister Angela on his arm, his gloom might have been lightened. More probably, however, it would have been increased. At the moment, Roland Trevis' sister Angela was fifteen, frivolous, and freckled and, except that he rather disliked her and suspected her correctly of laughing at him, amounted to just nil in Mr Pilkington's life.
The power of thought, however, returned to Mr Pilkington almost immediately: for, remembering suddenly that Roland Trevis had assured him that no musical production, except one of those elaborate girl-shows with a chorus of ninety, could possibly cost more than fifteen thousand dollars at an outside figure, he began to think about Roland Trevis, and continued to think about him until the train pulled into the Pennsylvania Station.
"Tell Mrs Peagrim that I shall be calling later in the afternoon, but cannot be spared just now." He replaced the receiver. "Aunt Olive's secretary," he murmured in a soft aside to Mr Trevis. "Aunt Olive wanted me to go for a ride." He turned to Jill. "Excuse me. Is there anything I can do for you, Miss Mariner?" Jill's composure was now completely restored.
"The book," said Mr Trevis, running his fingers over the piano, "is as good as anything Gilbert ever wrote." "Oh come, Rolie!" protested Mr Pilkington modestly. "Better," insisted Mr Trevis. "For one thing, it is up-to-date." "I do try to strike the modern tone," murmured Mr Pilkington. "And you have avoided Gilbert's mistake of being too fanciful." "He was fanciful," admitted Mr Pilkington.
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