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and for the life of her couldn’t help adding, “Of course, I haven’t read the play.”
    “The
purest
Bongo! Comedy with a twist. You know? Though I says it as shouldn’t, it’s right up my cul-de-sac. Bongo says he had me in mind all the time he was writing it.”
    Miss Bellamy laughed. “Darling! We do know our Bongo, don’t we? The number of plays he’s said he’d written for me and when one looked at them—!”
    With one of her infuriating moments of penetration, Pinky said, “Mary! Be pleased for me.”
    “But, sweetie,
naturally
I’m pleased. It sounds like a wonderful bit of luck and I hope with all my heart it works out.”
    “Of course, I know it means giving up my part in Richard’s new one for you. But, face it, there wasn’t much in it for me, was there? And nothing was really settled, so I’m not letting the side down, am I?”
    Miss Bellamy couldn’t help it. “My dear,” she said with a kindly laugh, “we’ll lose no sleep over that little problem: the part’ll cast itself in two seconds.”
    “Exactly!” Pinky cried happily and Miss Bellamy felt one of her rare onsets of rage begin to stir. She said:
    “But you were talking about Bertie, darling. Where does he come in?”
    “Aha!” Pinky said maddeningly and shook her finger.
    At this juncture Gracefield, the butler, arrived with a drinks tray.
    Miss Bellamy controlled herself. “Come on,” she said, “I’m going to break my rule, too. We
must
have a drink on this, darling.”
    “No, no no!”
    “Yes, yes, yes. A teeny one. Pink for Pinky?”
    She stood between Pinky and the drinks and poured out one stiff and one negligible gin-and-bitters. She gave the stiff one to Pinky.
    “To your wonderful future, darling,” she said. “Bottoms up!”
    “Oh
dear
!” Pinky said. “I shouldn’t.”
    “Never mind.”
    They drank.
    “And Bertie?” Miss Bellamy asked presently. “Come on. You know I’m as silent as the grave.”
    The blush that long ago had earned Pinky her nickname appeared in her cheeks. “This really
is
a secret,” she said. “Deep and deadly. But I’m sure he won’t mind my telling
you
. You see, it’s a part that has to be dressed up to the hilt — five changes and all of them grand as grand. Utterly beyond me and my little woman in Bayswater. Well! Bertie, being so much mixed up with the Management, has heard all about it, and do you know, darling, he’s offered,
entirely
of his own accord, to do my clothes. Designs, materials, making—
everything
from Saracen. And all completely free-ers.
Isn’t
that kind?”
    Wave after wave of fury chased each other like electrical frequencies through Miss Bellamy’s nerves and brain. She had time to think: “I’m going to throw a temperament and it’s bad for me,” and then she arrived at the point of climax.
    The explosion was touched off by Bertie himself, who came tripping back with a garland of tuberoses twined round his person. When he saw Pinky he stopped short, looked from her to Miss Bellamy and turned rather white.
    “Bertie,” Pinky said. “I’ve split on you.”
    “How could you!” he said. “Oh Pinky, how could you!”
    Pinky burst into tears.
    “I don’t know!” she stammered. “I didn’t mean to, Bertie darling. Forgive me. I was high.”
    “Stay me with flagons!” he said in a small voice. Miss Bellamy, employing a kind of enlargement of herself that was technically one of her most telling achievements, crossed to him and advanced her face to within four inches of his own.
    “You rat, Bertie,” she said quietly. “You little, two-timing, double-crossing, dirty rat.”
    And she wound her hands in his garland, tore it off him and threw it in his face.

Chapter two

Preparation for a Party
    Mary Bellamy’s temperaments were of rare occurrence but formidable in the extreme and frightening to behold. They were not those regulation theatre tantrums that seem to afford pleasure both to observer and performer; on the contrary they