"Things have
been kind of mixed-up around here today, owing to a little
trouble this morning. But perhaps I'll remember him."
But, although Adrian is of an unusual tipe, I felt that I
could not describe him, besides having a terrable headache. So
I asked if he would lend me carfare, which he did with a strange
look.
"You're not feeling sick, Miss, are you?" he said. But I
could not stay to converce, as it was then time for the curtain
to go up, and still no Adrian.
I had but one refuge in mind, Carter Brooks, and to him I
fled on the wings of misery in the street car. I burst into his
advertizing office like a furey.
"Where is he?" I demanded. "Where have you and your
plotting hidden him?"
"Who? Beresford?" he asked in a placid maner. "He is at his
hotel, I beleive, putting beefstake on a bad eye. Beleive me,
Bab----"
"Beresford!" I cried, in scorn and wrechedness. "What is he
to me? Or his eye either? I refer to Mr. Egleston. It is time
for the curtain to go up now, and unless he has by this time
returned, there can be no performence."
"Look here," Carter said sudenly, "you look awfuly queer,
Bab.
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