In July Regina received a phone call from Andrew， who<br >asked her to appear in a revival of The Sea Gull. He had<br >directed her in the role of Nina， the young actress， back in<br >the sixties， and that production had been the first real<br >success for them both. He would not， on the telephone， let<br >her say no. "If I am doing The Sea Gull， you re doing The Sea<br >Gull. That s it. Plain and simple.k~Short and sweet. I ve got to<br >have the best people and there s not another actress in the<br >English-speaking world who comes close. We ve got Bob<br >Hunt again， for Sorin. What a touching man he is! Now that<br >he s old. But this is no revival， Regina. I m not dusting off the<br >old production. The rest of the people are new. Hell， we re<br >new. Aren t we? Changed lots of ways over the years? Trust<br >me! Trust my judgment! Say you will." In the end， reluc-<br >tantly， she had agreed.<br > For the next ten days she d gone over her lines. It was like<br >learning the part from scratch. The night before the first<br >read-through， she had fallen asleep with the text in her bed.<br >In the morning， waking， she found her finger still between<br >the pages. It was only dawn， or a little after， but the air in the<br >airshaft had not cooled overnight. The sheet that covered<br >her legs was twisted and damp. She sat up， her head against<br >the wall. She was determined to get Nina s last speech by<br >heart.<br > The stage directions said， distractedly. They said， more than<br >once， rubs her forehead. Regina practiced Nina s gesture. To<br >herself she repeated the young girl s lines: That s not it. What<br >11<br >xis-<br >la s<br >md<br >，rld<br >an，<br >ust<br >in<br >n-<br >TSp<br >in<br >:e<br ><br >