They all stay!” “And you yourself?” Brendon laughed. She became aware of the Scotch student regarding her with stupendous amazement, a tea-cup poised in one hairy hand and his faceted glasses showing a various enlargement of segments of his eye. But, no. She never touched the manuscript with pencil, but jotted down her notes on slips of paper and left them where he might easily find them. She was too delicate, too fragile to survive out there. Not far from him was a knot of lads drinking, swearing, and playing at dice as eagerly and as skilfully as any of the older hands. The stage manager reappeared presently, and made a speech.
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