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0M EMENTO
ISS LYNNETTE
D'ARMANDE
turned her back on
Broadway. This was
but tit for tat, be-
cause Broadway had
-2- T73>Y often done the same
' thing to Miss D'Ar-
manle. Still, the
"tats" seemed to have it, for the ex-
leading lady of the "Reaping the \Whirl-
wind" company had everything to ask
of Broadway, while there was no vice-
versa.
So Miss Lynnette D'Armande turned
the back of her chair to her window
that overlooked Broadway, and sat
down to stitch in time the lisle-thread
heel of a black silk stocking. The tu-
mIult and glitter of the roaring Broad-
wav beneath her window had no charm
for her: what she greatly desired was
the stiling air of a dressing-room on
that fairy-land street and the roar of an
audience gathered in that capricious
quarter. In the meantime, those stock-
ss must not be neglected. Silk does
ar out so, but-after all, isn't it just
only goods there is?
The Hotel Thalia looks on Broad-
:-- as Marathon looks on the sea. It
:cl st like a gloomy cliff above the
,hirlpnnl where the tides of two great
i(ornughfares clash. Here the player-
in(:ls gather at the end of their wan-
-vitngs, to loosen the buskin and dust
hie sock. Thick in the streets around
are booking-offices, theaters, agents,
hools, and the lobster-palace< to
lich those thorny paths lead.
\ anderii 1e ,._1 e a.,<,. ric
halls of the dim and fusty Thalia, you
seem to have found yourself in some
great ark or caravan about to sail, or
fly, or roll away on wheel. About the
house lingers a sense of unrest, of ex-
pectation, of transientnetss, even of anx-
iety and apprehension. The halls are
a labyrinth. Without a guide, you wan-
dcr like a lost soul in a Sam L.ovd
puzzle.
Turning any corner, a dressing-sack
or a cul-de-sac may bring you up shlrt.
You meet alarming, tragcdtians stalking
in bath-robes in search of rumored
bath-rooms. From hundreds of rooms
come the buzz of talk, scraps of new
and old songs, and the ready laughter
of the convened players.
Summer has ccme their companies
have disbanded, and they take their rest
in their favorite caravanscry, while they
besiege the managers for engagements
for the coming season.
At this hour of the afternoon the
day's work of tramping the rounds of
the agents office is over. Past you, as
you ramble c istt-ractedly through the
mossy halls, flit audible visions of
hours, withl veiled, starry eye-s, flying
tag-ends of things and a swish of silk,
bequcathing to the dull hallways an odor
of g-aicty and a mcniory of frangi-
panni. Serious young comedians, within
versatile Adam's apples, gather in door-
ways and talk of Booth. Far-reaching
from somewhere comes the smell of
ham and red cabbage, and the crash of
dishes on the American plan.
The indeterminate hum of life in the
Thalia is punctuated by the discreet
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