Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: May 20, 2025
"Sure. And very good too, I hear." Mrs. Meecher kept abreast of theatrical gossip. She was an ex-member of the profession herself, having been in the first production of "Florodora," though, unlike everybody else, not one of the original Sextette. "Mr. Faucitt was down to see a rehearsal, and he said Miss Doland was fine. And he's not easy to please, as you know." "How is Mr. Faucitt?" Mrs.
"Oh, Elsa Doland?" There was silence again. The little clock ticked fussily on the mantelpiece. Out in the street automobile horns were blowing. From somewhere in the distance came faintly the rumble of an elevated train. Familiar sounds, but they came to Sally now with a curious, unreal sense of novelty.
Sally got up quickly, and flitting down the table, put her arm round her friend's shoulder and whispered in her ear: "Elsa darling, are you really broke? If you are, you know, I'll..." Elsa Doland laughed. "You're an angel, Sally. There's no one like you. You'd give your last cent to anyone. Of course I'm not broke. I've just come back from the road, and I've saved a fortune.
I don't suppose I shall feel much better in England, but, at least, every street corner won't have associations. Don't ever be happy anywhere, Ginger. It's too big a risk, much too big a risk. "There was a letter from Elsa Doland, too. Bubbling over with affection. We had always been tremendous friends. Of course, she never knew anything about my being engaged to Gerald.
"I attended a dog-fight which I was informed was a rehearsal," said Mr. Faucitt severely. "There is no rehearsing nowadays." "Oh dear! Was it as bad as all that?" "The play is good. The play I will go further is excellent. It has fat. But the acting..." "Mrs. Meecher said you told her that Elsa was good." "Our worthy hostess did not misreport me. Miss Doland has great possibilities.
Elsa Doland, the pretty girl with the big eyes who sat on Mr. Bartlett's left, had other views. "Buy a theatre. Sally, and put on good stuff." "And lose every bean you've got," said a mild young man, with a deep voice across the table. "If I had a few hundred thousand," said the mild young man, "I'd put every cent of it on Benny Whistler for the heavyweight championship.
Elsa Doland now moved to the door, pressed a bell, and, taking a magazine from the table, sat down in a chair near the footlights. A moment later, in answer to the ring, a young woman entered, to be greeted instantly by an impassioned bellow from Mr. Bunbury. "Miss Winch!"
"I've been cleaning house," said Gerald with the owl-like gravity of a man just conscious that he is not wholly himself. Sally pushed her way past him. The apartment in which she found herself was almost an exact replica of her own, and it was evident that Elsa Doland had taken pains to make it pretty and comfortable in a niggly feminine way.
Business had been excellent all through the week. Elsa Doland had got better at every performance. The receipt of a long and agitated telegram from Mr. Cracknell, pleading to be allowed to buy the piece back, the passage of time having apparently softened Miss Hobson, was a pleasant incident.
She can't handle it. Elsa Doland could play it a thousand times better. I wrote Elsa in a few lines the other day, and the Hobson woman went right up in the air. You don't know what a star is till you've seen one of these promoted clothes-props from the Follies trying to be one. It took me an hour to talk her round and keep her from throwing up her part." "Why not let her throw up her part?"
Word Of The Day
Others Looking