‘I paint the design on canvas and cut it out and if I were introduced to your dresser I would persuade her to sew it up.’ He took the glass from Martyn and said, ‘No one makes any introductions in this theatre, so we introduce ourselves to each other. I am Jacques Doré, and you are the little chick whom the stork has brought too late, or dropped into the wrong nest. Really,’ he said, rolling his eyes at Miss Hamilton, ‘it is the most remarkable coincidence, if it is a coincidence. I am dropping bricks,’ he added. ‘I am a very privileged person but one day I drop an outsize brick, and away I go.’ He made a circle of his thumb and forefinger and looked through it, as though it were a quizzing glass, at Martyn. ‘All the same,’ he said, ‘it is a pity you are a little dresser and not a little actress.’

Between the photograph call and the dress-rehearsal, which was timed for seven o’clock, a state of uneven ferment prevailed at the Vulcan. During the rare occasions on which she had time to reflect, Martyn anticipated a sort of personal zero hour, a moment when she would have to take stock, to come to a decision. She had two and fourpence and no place of abode, and she had no idea when she would be paid, or how much she would get. This moment of reckoning, however, she continually postponed. The problem of food was answered for the moment by the announcement that it would be provided for everyone whose work kept them in the theatre throughout the play. As Miss Hamilton had discovered a number of minor alterations to be made in her dresses, Martyn was of this company. Having by this time realized the position of extraordinary ubiquity held by Jacko, she was not surprised to find him cooking a mysterious but savoury mess over the gas-ring in Fred Badger’s sink-room.