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Updated: May 9, 2025
The voice belonged to a well-known exponent of physical culture, who was never so happy as when instructing the intellectually needy. She said: "I will tell you why she plays with her back towards the audience more than any other actress upon the stage to-day." The middle-Westerner, no less impressed than her metropolitan friends, listened eagerly.
Our dinners, receptions, dances, were affairs of importance. How this raw Middle-Westerner came to be invited I've forgotten. Through my father, I presume. I had hardly noticed him among so many. At least, I am sure I never gave him an excuse for thinking that he could Oh, it was outrageous. I had been trying to dance with him and had given it up.
The middle-Westerner, instead of becoming ecstatic in her admiration, and at a loss for adjectives at the appearance of the divine Sarah, merely perked at the great French artist for some time and then demanded, querulously: "What's the matter with her? Why does she play so much with her back to the audience? I don't like it."
He didn't belong somehow, and his hands trembled visibly as he tried to light a cigarette. Leaning not nonchalantly, but actually for support against the brocaded coral silk drapes of a pair of wide, long windows set in the east wall. Suddenly Dundee had it.... Broadway! This was no Hamiltonian, no comfortably rich and socially secure Middle-westerner.
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