[Beth Norvell by Randall Parrish]@TWC D-Link bookBeth Norvell CHAPTER IV 6/11
It was well worth while looking out across the oil-lamp footlights upon those hard-faced, bearded men, those gaudily attired women, thus held and controlled by perfectly depleted emotion, the vast audience so silent that the click of the wheel, the rattle of ivory chips in the rooms beyond, became plainly audible.
There was inspiration in it likewise, and never before did Beth Norvell more clearly exhibit her native power, her spark of real genius. Winston found little to do in his department that night, either on or off the stage, as the company expected to spend Sunday in the place. Consequently, he was only slightly behind the other members of the troupe in attaining the hotel at the conclusion of the evening's performance.
Indeed, he was earlier than many, for most of the male members had promptly adjourned to the convenient bar-room, with whatsoever small sums of money they could wring from out the reluctant palm of Albrecht.
Winston chanced to pause for a moment at the cigar stand to exchange a pleasant good-night word with the seemingly genial clerk. "You one of the actors ?" questioned the latter, exhibiting some slight interest. The young man nodded indifferently, not feeling unduly proud of the distinction. "Sorry I couldn't have been there," the other went on cordially.
"The boys tell me you gave 'em a mighty fine show, but I 'm here to bet that some of your people wish they 'd steered clear of San Juan." "How's that ?" "Why, that fat fellow--what's his name ?--oh, yes, Albrecht--the sheriff was in here hunting him with some papers he had to serve, and it would have made you laugh just to see that duck climb out when I met him yonder on the street a few minutes ago, and gave him the highball. Guest of the house, you know, and we did n't want him pinched in here; besides, we understood he carried the scads for the rest of your bunch, and we naturally wanted our share.
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