People used to go around
in a kind of spell; they couldn't think of anything or talk of
anything but Dora Preston. It didn't matter much what she did;
everything she did made you feel like a boy falling in love the
first time. It made you think of apple-blossoms and moonlight just
to look at her. She--"
"See here, Mr. Canby"--Talbot Potter interrupted suddenly. He
dropped into a chair and picked up the manuscript--"See here!
I've got an idea that may save this play. Suppose we let
'Roderick Hanscom' make his sacrifice, not for the heroine, but
because he's in love with the other girl--the ingenue--I've
forgotten the name you call her in the script. I mean the part
played by that little Miss Miss girl--Miss-what's-her-name--
Wanda Malone!"
Canby stared at Potter in fascinated amazement, his straining
eyes showing the whites above and below the pupils. It was the
look of a man struck dumb by a sudden marvel of telepathy.
"Why, yes," he said slowly, when he had recovered his breath, "I
believe that would be a good idea!"
VII
For two hours, responding to the manipulation of the star and
his thoroughly subjugated playwright, the character of "Roderick
Hanscom" grew nobler and nobler, speech by speech and deed by
deed, while the expression of the gentleman who was to
impersonate it became, in precise parallel with this
regeneration, sweeter and loftier and lovelier.
Pages:
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68