The simultaneous arrival of Emile and
Arithelli roused him from his normal condition of bored cynicism to
comparative animation.
Like the landlady he naturally made his own conclusions.
"When did you arrive?" he demanded of Arithelli. Emile, not being
afflicted with a sense of the necessity for elaborate explanation,
removed himself a few paces and began to roll a cigarette.
Arithelli stood her ground, listened to the comments on her appearance
which the Manager felt himself entitled to use, returned his cynical
survey with a level glance, and answered his questions with an
unruffled composure.
It was arranged that she should rehearse every day for two hours in the
morning, and another two hours between the afternoon and evening
performances. For the first act she could wear a habit of any colour
she cared to choose, and a smart hat; for the second act, which
included jumping over gates, and the presence of the inevitable clown,
she would have to wear short skirts.
"_They_ won't suit me," she said. "You see how long and thin I am, and
look at my long feet.
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