Rushcroft," said Barnes. "She's much too splendid for that. I have
a proposition I'd like to make to you later on. I cannot make it,
however, without consulting Miss Thackeray's feelings."
"My dear fellow!" beamed Rushcroft, seizing the other's hand. "One
frequently reads in books about it coming like this, at first sight,
but, damme, I never dreamed that it ever really happened. Count on me!
She ought to leave the stage, the dear child. No more fitted to it
than an Easter lily. Her place is in the home, the--"
"Good Lord, I'm not thinking of--" And Barnes, aghast, stopped before
blurting out the words that leaped to his lips. "I mean to say, this
is a proposition that may also affect your excellent companions, Bacon
and Dillingford, as well as yourselves."
"Abominations!" snorted Rushcroft. "I fired both of them this morning.
They are no longer connected with my company. I won't have 'em around.
What's more, they can't act and never will. The best bit of acting
that Bacon ever did in his life was when he told me to go to hell a
little while ago. I say 'acting,' mind you, because the wretch
COULDN'T have been in earnest, and yet he gave the most convincing
performance of his life.
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