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Updated: September 3, 2025
It was marriage that had been the catastrophe the fatal blunder. Marriage and domesticity for a woman like that! It was asinine worse criminal! It ought to have been forbidden by law. And the stubbornness of her! After all these years, remembering, Max Hempel could have groaned aloud.
She stooped to gather up her roses as if they might serve as a barricade between her and the wolf. But suddenly she forgot her misgivings again, for Max Hempel was saying incredible things, things which set her imagination agog and her pulses leaping. He was offering her a small role, a maid's part, in one of his road companies. "Me!" she gasped from behind her roses. "You." "When?"
Here Hempel passed through the store, clad in his Sunday best, his hair plastered flat with bear's-grease. "Going out for a stroll?" asked his master. "That was my h'intention, sir. I don't think you'll find I've left any of my dooties undone." "Oh, go, by all means!" said Mahony curtly, nettled at having his harmless query misconstrued.
"Another thing, love," continued Mahony, on whom a sudden light had dawned as he stood listening to Sarah's trumpery. "I fear your sister is trifling with the feelings of our worthy Hempel." Polly, who had kept her own counsel on this matter, went crimson. "Oh, do you really think so, Richard?" she asked evasively. "I hope not. For of course nothing could come of it.
She wisely took the contract over to the school and got the manager's advice to "Go ahead." "We've nothing comparable to offer you, Miss Tony. With Hempel and Miss Clay both behind you you are practically made. You are a lucky little lady. I know a dozen experienced actresses in this city who would give their best cigarette cases to be in your shoes."
The doctor smiled down at his flushed, starry-eyed niece. He understood precisely what a big moment it was for her. "Oh, I should think so!" sighed Tony. "You are awfully kind, Mr. Hempel. It is like a wonderful dream almost too good to be true." Both men smiled at that. For youth no dream is quite too extravagant or incredible to be potentially true.
"Oh, but she loved him," explained Laura LaRue's daughter simply. Again Hempel nodded. "She did," he admitted grimly. After all these years there was no use admitting that that had been the deepest rub of all, that Laura had loved Ned Holiday and had never, for even the span of a moment, thought of caring for himself. "I repeat, your father was a very lucky man a damnably lucky one."
Each wanted the lovely little Rosalind on his own side of the fence, and each suspected the other of desiring to lure her to the other side if he could. For the moment however, the advantage was all with the doctor, with his protecting arm around Tony. "Holiday!" muttered Hempel.
He is sitting in semi-darkness in the parquet at the Royal Opera House. "Le Prophète" is in rehearsal, and it is the last act, in which there is a powder cask, ready to blow everything to atoms, standing outside the cathedral. Fraulein Frieda Hempel, as the heroine, appears with a lighted torch and is about to take her seat on the cask.
"I know you could, my dear. I knew it all the time while I was watching you play Rose. Mr. Hempel has known it even longer. I went to see Rose to find out if there was a Madge in you. There is. I told Mr. Hempel so this morning. He is brewing his contracts now so be prepared. Will you try it?" "I'd love to if you and Mr. Hempel think I can.
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