Prayers are
vain. The good man is punished, and the wicked is sent on his way
rejoicing.
In such mournful thought, his clothes stained and torn, with all the traces
of a week's toil in the docks upon them, Hubert made his way round St.
Paul's and across Holborn. As he was about to cross into Oxford Street, he
heard some one accost him,--
'Oh, Mr. Price, is that you?' It was Rose. 'Where have you been all this
time?'
She seemed so strange, so small, and so much alone in the great
thoroughfare, that Hubert forgot all his own troubles in a sudden interest
in this little mite. 'Where have you been hiding yourself?... It is lucky I
met you. Don't you know that Ford has decided to revive _Divorce_?'
'You don't mean it!'
'Yes; Ford said that the last acts of _The Gipsy_ were not satisfactorily
worked out, and as there was something wrong with that Hamilton Brown's
piece, he has decided to revive _Divorce_. He says it never was properly
played ... he thinks he'll make a hit in the husband's part, and I daresay
he will. But I have been unfortunate again; I wanted the part of the
adventuress. I really could play it. I don't look it, I know ... I have no
weight, but I could play it for all that.
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