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Updated: July 9, 2025
Even in giving the photographer's number he was one of those prodigies who remember infallibly all telephone numbers his voice seemed to gloat upon his project. Marrier, having obtained communication with the photographer, was saying gloriously into the telephone: "Yes, Wilkins's. No. Quite private. I've got Miss Rose Euclid here, and Mr. Seven Sachs" while Mr.
"I suppose it wouldn't do to call it the Euclid Theatre?" Rose questioned casually, without moving her eyes. "Splendid!" cried Mr. Marrier from the telephone. "It all depends whether there are enough mathematical students in London to fill the theatre for a run," said Edward Henry. "Oh! D'you think so?" murmured Rose, surprised and vaguely puzzled.
That's why it's so fortunate we got hold of you to-night." "But Mr. Bryany told me Friday. And the date was clear enough on the copy of the option he gave me." "A mistake of copying," beamed Mr. Marrier. "However, it's all right." "Well," observed Edward Henry with heartiness, "I don't mind telling you that for sheer calm coolness you take the cake. However, as Mr.
The tenants of the bars were grumbling, but happily he was getting money from them. The following day was Saturday. It rained a succession of thunderstorms. The morning and the evening performances produced together sixty-eight pounds. "Well," said Mr. Marrier, "in this kind of weathah you can't expect people to come out, can you? Besides, this cursed week-ending habit "
It was a remarkable fact that the sole proprietor of the Regent Theatre was now in high spirits and good humour. "Well, Marrier, my boy," he saluted the acting-manager, "how are you getting on with that rehearsal?" "Well, sir," said Mr. Marrier, "I'm not getting on with it. Miss Euclid refuses absolutely to proceed. She's in her dressing-room."
"It would interfere with us, and we should interfere with it. Our Annual Conference takes place in the afternoon. All London will be there." Said Mr. Marrier, rather shamefaced: "That's just it, Mr. Machin. It positively never occurred to me that the Azure Conference is to be on that very day. I never thought of it until nearly four o'clock. And then I scarcely knew how to explain it to you.
"But why?" inquired Edward Henry with bland surprise. "Doesn't she want to be heard by her gallery-boys?" Mr. Marrier showed an enfeebled smile. "She hasn't been spoken to like that for thirty years," said he. "But don't you agree with me?" asked Edward Henry. "Yes," said Marrier, "I agree with you " "And doesn't your friend Carlo want his precious hexameters to be heard?"
He was, indubitably thinner in girth; novel problems and anxieties, and the constant annoyance of being in complete technical ignorance of his job, had removed some flesh. He had shaved off his beard. "Well, sir!" a voice greeted him full of hope and cheer, immediately his feet touched the platform. It was the voice of Mr. Marrier. Edward Henry and Mr. Marrier were now in regular relations.
In the undergrowth of his mind was the thought: "How dare this man whose brains belong to me be the organizing secretary of something that I don't know anything about and don't want to know anything about?" "Yes," said Mr. Marrier, modestly. "I say," Edward Henry inquired warmly, with an impulsive gesture, "who is she?" "Who is she?" repeated Mr. Marrier, blankly. "Yes. What does she do?"
Marrier showed him the stop-press news of a penny evening paper, which read: "Sir John Pilgrim has abandoned his ceremonious departure from Tilbury, in order to lay the corner-stone of the new Regent Theatre on Wednesday week. He and Miss Cora Pryde will join the Kandahar at Marseilles." "You needn't do any advertaysing," said Mr. Marrier. "Pilgrim will do all the advertaysing for you."
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