At last I tried a dramatic agent, and got on the music hall stage. Opposite to her was a sallow-visaged young man, whose small tie seemed like a smudge of obtusively shiny black across the front of a high close-drawn collar. Here a little delay occurred. Did she suppose him a possible pretender to her daughter’s hand? The girl—Dorothée, if memory served—was clearly marriageable, but he imagined most of these unhappy exiles were all but penniless. She opened one and found herself in a large untidy room set with chairs that were a little disarranged as if by an overnight meeting.
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