She kept her figure, and had an
admirer when she was fifty-eight.'
'What has become of him?'
'They quarrelled; two years ago he told her he hoped never to see her ugly
old face again. And that delicate little creature in the box next to
her--that pale diaphanous face?'
'With a young man hanging over her whispering in her ear?'
'Yes. She hates the theatre; it gives her neuralgia; but she attends all
the first nights because her one passion is to be made love to in public.
If her admirer did not hang over her in front of the box just as that man
is doing, she would not tolerate him for a week.'
At that moment the conversation was interrupted by a new-comer, who asked
if he had seen the play when it was first produced.
'Yes,' said Harding; 'I did.' And he continued his search for acquaintances
amid white rows of female backs, necks, and half-seen profiles--amid the
black cloth shoulders cut sharply upon the illumined curtain.
'And what do you think of it? Do you think it will succeed this time?'
'Ford will create an impression in the part; but I don't think the piece
will run.'
'And why? Because the public is too stupid?'
'Partly, and partly because Price is only an intentionist.
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