Next time I'll be
more sensible."
"Dress as you like for the present," said he. "You can always
change here. Later on dress will be one of the main things,
of course. But not now. Have you learned the part?"
And they began. She saw at the far end of the room a platform
about the height of a stage. He explained that Garvey, with
the book of the play, would take the other parts in _Lola's_
scenes, and sent them both to the stage. "Don't be nervous,"
Garvey said to her in an undertone. "He doesn't expect
anything of you. This is simply to get started." But she
could not suppress the trembling in her legs and arms, the
hysterical contractions of her throat. However, she did
contrive to go through the part--Garvey prompting. She knew
she was ridiculous; she could not carry out a single one of
the ideas of "business" which had come to her as she studied;
she was awkward, inarticulate, panic-stricken.
"Rotten!" exclaimed Brent, when she had finished. "Couldn't
be worse therefore, couldn't be better."
She dropped to a chair and sobbed hysterically.
"That's right--cry it out," said Brent. "Leave us alone, Garvey."
Brent walked up and down smoking until she lifted her head and
glanced at him with a pathetic smile. "Take a cigarette," he
suggested. "We'll talk it over. Now, we've got something to
talk about."
She found relief from her embarrassment in the cigarette.
Pages:
949
950
951
952
953
954
955
956
957
958
959
960
961
962
963
964
965
966
967
968
969
970
971
972
973