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Updated: May 15, 2025
You haven't the right shape of head. What do you suppose we want to talk over? The theater, of course." "What about the theater?" Miss Verepoint looked searchingly at him. "Don't you ever read the papers?" "I haven't seen a paper since I went away." "Well, better have it quick and not waste time breaking it gently," said Miss Verepoint. "The theater's been burned down that's what's happened."
Roland shook his head. The particular form in which Miss Verepoint had put the question entitled him, he felt, to make this answer. "Why didn't you?" Miss Verepoint's tone was almost menacing. "Because it did not appear to me to be necessary." Nor was it necessary, said Roland to his conscience. Mr. Montague had done all the insuring that was necessary and a bit over.
The best thing we can do is all to go off and talk it over at the Savoy, over a bit of lunch." "Well," said Miss Verepoint, "what are you going to do rebuild the Windsor or try and get another theater?" The authors were all for rebuilding the Windsor. True, it would take time, but it would be more satisfactory in every way.
The collection of a cast was a matter even more complicated than the actual composition of the revue. There was the almost insuperable difficulty that Miss Verepoint firmly vetoed every name suggested.
To Roland, there seemed to be something just the least bit sinister about the sound of that word "touch," but he said nothing. "Why, there they are lunching over there!" cried Miss Verepoint, pointing to a neighboring table. "Now, isn't that lucky?" To Roland the luck was not quite so apparent, but he made no demur to Miss Verepoint's suggestion that they should be brought over to their table.
This was due to the fact that what revue-writing exacts from its exponents is the constant assimilation of food and drink. Bromham Rhodes had the largest appetite in London; but, on the other hand, R. P. de Parys was a better drinker. "Well, dear old thing!" said Bromham Rhodes. "Well, old child!" said R. P. de Parys. Both these remarks were addressed to Miss Verepoint.
Like an icy wave, it had swept over him what marriage with this girl would mean. He suddenly realised how essentially domestic his instincts really were. Life with Miss Verepoint would mean perpetual dinners at restaurants, bread-throwing suppers, motor-rides everything that he hated most. Yet, as a man of honor, he was tied to her.
Where on earth have you been to, running away like this, without a word?" "I only went " "Well, it doesn't matter where you went. The main point is, what are you going to do about it?" "We thought we'd better come along and talk it over," said R. P. de Parys. "Talk what over?" said Roland: "the revue?" "Oh, don't try and be funny, for goodness' sake!" snapped Miss Verepoint. "It doesn't suit you.
The two boys, as to whose capabilities to write a topping revue Miss Verepoint had formed so optimistic an estimate, proved to be well-grown lads of about forty-five and forty, respectively.
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.
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