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Webster, Henry Kitchell, 1875-1932

"The Real Adventure"


It was obvious to her that this quality was destroying whatever slim
chance for success they had. The lines, with the new ugly twist that had
been imparted to them, might draw a half dozen rude guffaws from
different parts of the audience, but the chill disfavor with which they
were received by the rest of the house, must, she felt, have been
apparent to everybody. There seemed, though, to be a superstition that a
laugh was a sacred thing; something to be fed carefully with more of the
same thing that had originally produced it. This treatment was persisted
in, despite the fact that the audiences shrank and shriveled and the
box-office receipts, she gathered from the gossip of the company, hung
just about at the minimum required to keep them going.
What troubled her was her own apathetic acceptance of it all. Just as
her ear seemed to have grown dull to the offenses that nightly were
committed against it on the stage, and to the leering response, which
was all they ever got from across the footlights, so her spirit
submitted tamely to the prospect of failure.


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