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Updated: July 9, 2025
You see, as I own part of the option " By these last words Edward Henry was confounded, even to muteness. "I forgot to mention, Mr. Machin," said Rose Euclid, very quickly. "I've disposed of a quarter of my half of the option to Mr. Marrier. He fully agreed with me it was better that he should have a proper interest in the theatre." "Why of course!" cried Mr. Harrier, uplifted.
Strange that in that moment he was positively proud of having been dismissed from his first situation! Strange that all the company, too, thought the better of him for having been dismissed! Strange that Marrier regretted that he also had not been dismissed! But so it was. The possession of much ready money emits a peculiar effluence in both directions back to the past, forward into the future.
Before Edward Henry had paid his final bill at Wilkins's and relinquished his valet and his electric brougham, and disposed for ever of his mythical "man" on board the Minnetonka, and got his original luggage away from the Hotel Majestic, Mr. Marrier had visited him and made a certain proposition. And such was the influence of Mr. Mr. Marrier was now Edward Henry's "representative" in London.
Carlo Trent said: "It's from Thomas Nashe's 'Song in Time of Pestilence. The closing lines of the verse are: 'I am sick, I must die Lord, have mercy on me!" "Well," said Edward Henry, recovering, "I rather like the end. I think the end's very appropriate." Mr. Seven Sachs choked over his wine, and kept on choking. Mr.. Marrier was the first to recover from this blow to the prestige of poetry.
Marrier, in addition to having organized and managed the soirée, might also have written the piece and played every part in it, and founded the Azure Society and built its private theatre. The hour was Mr. Marrier's. Elise April's dressing-room was small and very thickly populated, and the threshold of it was barred by eager persons who were half in and half out of the room. Through these Mr.
Seven Sachs, sitting square and upright, smiled gaily at Edward Henry across the gleaming table and raised a glass. Little Marrier, who at nearly all times had a most enthusiastic smile, did the same. In the result five glasses met over the central bed of chrysanthemums. Edward Henry was happy.
"It's Miss Elsie April." "Do you mean to say, Marrier," complained Edward Henry, "that you've known Miss Elsie April all these months and never told me?... There aren't two, I suppose? It's the cousin or something of Rose Euclid?" Mr. Marrier nodded. "The fact is," he said, "she and I are joint honorary organizing secretaries for the annual conference of the Azure Society.
Marrier and Carlo Trent appeared through the iron door that gave communication to initiates between the wings and the auditorium; they sat down in the stalls. And the curtain rose with a violent swish, and disclosed the first "set" of "The Orient Pearl." "What about that amber, Cosmo?" Mr. Marrier cried thickly, after a pause, his mouth occupied with sandwich. "There you are!" came the reply.
Marrier, who, growing more radiant every day, had gradually developed into a sort of chubby Napoleon, taking an immense delight in detail and in choosing minor hands at round-sum salaries on the spur of the moment. Mr. Marrier refused no call upon his energy. He was helping Carlo Trent in the production and stage-management of the play. He dried the tears of girlish neophytes at rehearsals.
"Of course," said Mr. Marrier, "in the height of the London season, with so many counter-attractions ! Besides, they've got to get used to the idea of it." Edward Henry did not turn pale. Still, he was aware that it cost him a trifle over sixty pounds "to ring the curtain up" at every performance and this sum took no account of expenses of production nor of author's fees.
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