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Back in the grillroom at Ciro's, Erwen was talking through the telephone to Sam Benson, the excitable little man whom he had introduced to Rosina.

"Look here, Sam," he said, "about that little girl I asked you to take on this morning. She's on her way over to rehearse now."

"You don't want me to give her a part, I hope?" the stage manager asked anxiously.

"Don't be an ass! She's never been on the stage before and I dare say she'll be a perfect stick. I just want you to be on the lookout and see that none of the fellows get fresh with her over there."

"That's all right, Duggie, old chap," the other promised, in a tone of relief. "Leave it to me. I'll look after her."

"And, say, don't bully her yourself, there's a good fellow. Remember that the great Sarah herself had to have a first showing. And listen here, Sam. Tell her she's paid for rehearsals, and give her a fiver on Friday. I'll settle up with you."

"I'll attend to it. See you later."

Erwen returned to his seat and sipped his liqueur brandy. Having registered a solemn vow, in face of the whole company, that nothing should drag him to rehearsal again until the following week, he was wondering now what excuse he could make for breaking his word.