Yes, this is Mr. Deacon.
O Mr. Deacon, you don't know me, but I wish you would see me. The voice was female and honeyed.
What about? Occasionally, the effect of Ambrose's shyness was to make his speech sound rather brisk.
I'd rather see you to talk with you if you would be good enough to arrange an appointment.
I don't even know your name.
My name is Gladys Lincoln. Do please be good enough to see me.
I'm ill, Ambrose cried in desperation. Can't you tell me what you want to see me about?
Well, I'd rather you'd see me. You could judge better that way. I want you to give me a part in your new film, Spider Boy. I am five feet, one, I have chestnut hair, blue eyes . . .
But Spider Boy isn't even written yet, he protested, in amazement that the world had heard about it so soon.
That's just why I called you up, Miss Lincoln announced. I wanted to get in ahead. If you saw me, perhaps you would write a special part for me. I could try on a Persian costume for you . . .
A Persian costume!
