"Well, I don't know.
I done a Carmencita part in a dance-hall scene last month over to the Bigart, and right in the mi'st of the fight I get a glass of somethin' all over my gown that practically rooned it.

I guess I rather do this refined cabaret stuff--at least you ain't so li'ble to roon a gown.
Still and all, after you been warmin' the extra bench for a month one can't be choosy.

Say, there's the princ'ples comin' on the set." He looked around.

There, indeed, was the beautiful Muriel Mercer, radiant in an evening frock of silver.

At the moment she was putting a few last touches to her perfect face from a make-up box held by a maid.
Standing with her was another young woman, not nearly so beautiful, and three men.