He told them just what Maude
Adams and Ethel Barrymore were like, and Julia Marlowe, and Elsie
Ferguson, and Chrystal Herne, and all the rest of them. He spoke
familiarly of Mr. Faversham as "Favvy," of Mr. Collier as "Willie,"
of Mr. Sothern as "Ned," of Mr. Drew as "John," of Mr. Skinner as
"Otis," of Mr. Frohman as "Dan."
And when he said good night and reluctantly wended his way to the
room at the end of the hall, round the corner of which the fierce
October gale shrieked derisively, he left behind him a group
enthralled.
"Isn't he a perfect dear?" cried Mrs. Pollock, clasping her hands.
"The most erudite man I have ever met," agreed Miss Miller
ecstatically. "Don't you think so, Mr. Hatch?"
Mr. Hatch was startled. "Oh,--er--yes, indeed. Absolutely!"
he stammered, and then looked inquiringly at his finger nails. He
hoped he had made the proper response.
Charlie Webster ambled over to one of the windows and peered out
into the whistling night.
"It's an ill wind that blows nobody any good," said he sententiously.
"What do you mean by that, Charlie?" inquired Flora Grady, at his
elbow.
"Well, if it had been a pleasant night he'd have been up at Alix
Crown's instead of here," said Charlie.
"I see," said Flora, after a moment. "You mean the ill wind favoured
Alix, eh?"
Charlie's round face was unsmiling as he stared hard at the fire.
Pages:
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160