minds, created a slightly dizzy haze, high-pitched laughter, chatter about the unceasingly interesting topic, sex.
Here Ken spent many days, days which drifted past inexpensively, satisfactorily. Joe Durazzo found him one night. Joe began to take care of him once more. Then, too, Frankie arrived. His Chicago patron had dropped dead without taking the trouble to change a certain clause in his will. As a result, Frankie was broke again.
Ken had urged both Joe and Frankie to ask Howard Vee for chorus work in "The King's Own." They had attended a preliminary chorus call. Bucky Barton was staging the routines for the new revue. He rejected them … at Howard's instructions, Ken guessed.
"The old fluff thinks he is manly," Frankie complained. "Don't I know he played the dressmaker in 'Evleen' on the road?"
Ken guessed that "The King's Own" was being produced in a manner different from "Sweeter than Sweet." His suspicions were confirmed as soon as he reported for rehearsals at the Alcazar Theatre. The new chorus numbered sixty-four. The cast was top-heavy with famous musical comedy and variety names of the London stage. Ken was one of the few Americans listed on the call board.
Howard was not in the theatre when Ken arrived. Quite by chance, Ken collided headlong with him as he descended stairs to his temporary dressing-room below stage.
"Hello, Gracey," Howard said curtly.
Ken laughed.
"Hello, you old sinner," he greeted him.
Howard grinned. "You look wonderful. Have dinner with me tonight?"
"Why not?" Ken replied.
