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Updated: June 21, 2025
And concurrently she dwelt upon Ethel and Fred at that hour, and listened with anxiety for the opening of the box-door and the entry of Arthur Twemlow. She imagined that owing to their late arrival she must have missed the one essential clue to the plot of The Dolmenico Doll, and as the gorgeously decorated action was developed on the dazzling stage she tried in vain to grasp its significance.
Why you should talk as if you owed me anything . . ." A moment later he was alone, with the memory of her lips still trembling on his. He lighted a cigarette and paced up and down the passage, thinking out his speech. She had left the box-door open, and, as the curtain fell, he took up his position where he could see the house applauding.
It could be serious to the call of better leadership, she believed. Her father's absence and the continued shouts of laughter, the insatiable thirst for fun, darkened her in her desire to have the soul of the good working sister refreshed. They had talked together; not much: enough for each to see at either's breast the wells from the founts of life. The box-door opened, Dartrey came in.
It could be serious to the call of better leadership, she believed. Her father's absence and the continued shouts of laughter, the insatiable thirst for fun, darkened her in her desire to have the soul of the good working sister refreshed. They had talked together; not much: enough for each to see at either's breast the wells from the founts of life. The box-door opened, Dartrey came in.
But the iron heels, with their shining plates, only caught the oak of his box-door; and the tete-a-tete in the sultry, oppressive night went on as the speakers moved to a prudent distance; one of them thoughtfully chewing a bit of straw, after the immemorial habit of grooms, who ever seem as if they had been born into this world with a cornstalk ready in their mouths.
I reached their box-door in time to assist them through the crowd. Not a word was said by any of us, until we reached the street, where two or three of Miss Mordaunt's female friends became loud in the expression of their satisfaction. Neither Anneke nor Mary Wallace said anything, and so well did I understand the nature of their feelings, that I made no allusion whatever to the farce.
This was the most provoking, as Lord Orville was in excellent spirits, and exceedingly entertaining. When the play was over, I flattered myself I should be able to look about me with less restraint, as we intended to stay the farce; but the curtain had hardly dropped, when the box-door opened, and in came Mr.
Half an hour passes, and then, after what seems a weary period of suspense, the box-door is thrown open and the jury resume their seats. Ambroise Thomas, the president of the Conservatoire, strikes his bell and a dead silence ensues. In a full sonorous voice he begins: "Concours of tragedy, men's class. No prizes. Usher, summon M. Guitry." The gifted boy comes forward to the footlights.
He wrote evasively, but did not appear, and the ladies, with Emilia between them, listened to every foot-fall by the box-door, and were too much preoccupied to marvel that Emilia was just as inattentive to the music as they were. When the curtain dropped they noticed her dejection. "What ails you?" they asked.
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