He listened, as one in
a daze.
"But I gather," he said, when at last the recitle was over,
"that you have never met the--met him."
"Not in the ordinery use of the word," I remarked. "But
then it is not an ordinery situation. We have met and we have
not. Our eyes have spoken, if not our vocal chords." Seeing his
eyes on me I added, "if you do not beleive that Soul can cry
unto Soul, Carter, I shall go no further."
"Oh!" he exclaimed. "There is more, is there? I trust it is
not painfull, because I have stood as much as I can now without
breaking down."
"Nothing of which I am ashamed," I said, rising to my full
height. "I have come to you for help, Carter. _That play must
not fail_."
We faced each other over those vitle words--faced, and
found no solution.
"Is it a good Play?" he asked, at last.
"It is a beautiful Play. Oh, Carter, when at the end he
takes his Sweetheart in his arms--the leading lady, and not at
all atractive. Jane Raleigh says that the star generaly _hates_
his leading lady--there is not a dry eye in the house."
"Must be a jolly little thing.
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