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Updated: June 16, 2025
Quincel, mentioning Augustin Daly's famous production, which had worn from a great public success down to an amateur theatrical favourite, with many of the troublesome accessories cut out and the dramatis personae reduced to the smallest possible number. Drouet had seen this play some time in the past. "That's it," he said; "that's a fine play. It will go all right.
The members of Custer Lodge could scarcely understand why their little affair was taking so well. Mr. Harry Quincel was looked upon as quite a star for this sort of work. By the time the 16th had arrived Hurstwood's friends had rallied like Romans to a senator's call. A well-dressed, good-natured, flatteringly-inclined audience was assured from the moment he thought of assisting Carrie.
"Oh, I guess we'll be able to whip them into shape," said the latter, with an air of strength under difficulties. "I don't know," said the director. "That fellow Bamberger strikes me as being a pretty poor shift for a lover." "He's all we've got," said Quincel, rolling up his eyes. "Harrison went back on me at the last minute. Who else can we get?" "I don't know," said the director.
We'll make her," and the manager gave one of his quick, steely half-smiles, which was a compound of good-nature and shrewdness. Carrie, meanwhile, attended the first rehearsal. At this performance Mr. Quincel presided, aided by Mr. Millice, a young man who had some qualifications of past experience, which were not exactly understood by any one.
"That sounds like somebody that can act, doesn't it?" said Quincel. "Yes, it does." He took the part home to Carrie and handed it to her with the manner of one who does a favour. "He says that's the best part. Do you think you can do it?" "I don't know until I look it over. You know I'm afraid, now that I've said I would." "Oh, go on. What have you got to be afraid of? It's a cheap company.
As she dressed with a flutter, in her little stage room, hearing the voices outside, seeing Mr. Quincel hurrying here and there, noting Mrs. Morgan and Mrs.
"Well, she's got more gumption than any one I've seen here so far seems to take an interest in what she's doing." "Pretty, too, isn't she?" said Quincel. The director strolled away without answering.
Quincel, who sat at the side of the stage, looking serenely on and volunteering opinions which the director did not heed. "All right," said the latter, somewhat abashed, "it might be well to do it." Then brightening, with a show of authority, "Suppose we run right through, putting in as much expression as we can." "Good," said Mr. Quincel. "This hand," resumed Mrs. Morgan, glancing up at Mr.
You ought to make a lot of money out of that." "We think we'll do very well," Mr. Quincel replied. "Don't you forget now," he concluded, Drouet showing signs of restlessness; "some young woman to take the part of Laura." "Sure, I'll attend to it." He moved away, forgetting almost all about it the moment Mr. Quincel had ceased talking. He had not even thought to ask the time or place.
"'Who told you to steal? asked my mother. "'She there, said the child, pointing to a squalid woman in a doorway opposite, who fled suddenly down the street. 'That is old Judas, said the girl." Mrs. Morgan read this rather flatly, and the director was in despair. He fidgeted around, and then went over to Mr. Quincel. "What do you think of them?" he asked.
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