Riggish

Leonora was rehearsing in her Cleopatra costume. The Ellesmere DramSoc had seen nothing like it, and she was looking forward to infinite variety on Saturday evening. When Quain entered unexpectedly, she was prinking herself in the mirror.

— Don’t just barge in like that, Quain! It’s not a public street….  but since you’re here, take down those purple curtains and rig up a sail, just here  — and bring me perfume —  that strange invisible one that I’ve been saving.

Oh, I feel quite breathless now! Take these divers-colour’d fans and cool my delicate cheeks, will you?

By the way, can you play the flute, Quain?

— Gentle madam, no.


 

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