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The One Girl - A Romance Classic By Henry Kitchell Webster! AAA+++
The One Girl - A Romance Classic By Henry Kitchell Webster! AAA+++
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Excerpts:
"She was a very good-looking girl. You might have called her pretty if a saving instinct hadn't pointed out to you that she'd take offense at the adjective, as budding Bachelors of Art of her sex have a way of doing. She was full of college enthusiasms, college sentiments, and a college education; and one could have found recent alumni and undergraduates of every college in New England who were nursing tenderly melancholy memories of dances they had had with her at junior proms."…
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" The steel curtain at the Globe was raised half way, showing the bare stage with its back wall of whitewashed brick. Out in the unlighted auditorium--unlighted, that is, save by the disagreeably penetrating beams of a naked incandescent lamp on an iron standard that stood beside the piano in the orchestra pit--sat side by side, in the back row, the authors, Arthur Brinton and Jimmy Wallace. They had their knees cocked up on the backs of the seats in front of them, their hats pulled low over their eyes, and they were smoking stogies so fast that they fairly sputtered. Over in a remote corner sat a very voguishly clad young lady in a hat listed about three degrees too far to starboard. She had applied to Joe Lippsky that morning for a job in the chorus, and, as he knew one of the showgirls was developing symptoms of a temperament, he had told the new applicant to wait and see Jepson, the director, when the rehearsal was over. It was now three o'clock in the afternoon, and the rehearsal had been going steadily since ten that morning."
"She was a very good-looking girl. You might have called her pretty if a saving instinct hadn't pointed out to you that she'd take offense at the adjective, as budding Bachelors of Art of her sex have a way of doing. She was full of college enthusiasms, college sentiments, and a college education; and one could have found recent alumni and undergraduates of every college in New England who were nursing tenderly melancholy memories of dances they had had with her at junior proms."…
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" The steel curtain at the Globe was raised half way, showing the bare stage with its back wall of whitewashed brick. Out in the unlighted auditorium--unlighted, that is, save by the disagreeably penetrating beams of a naked incandescent lamp on an iron standard that stood beside the piano in the orchestra pit--sat side by side, in the back row, the authors, Arthur Brinton and Jimmy Wallace. They had their knees cocked up on the backs of the seats in front of them, their hats pulled low over their eyes, and they were smoking stogies so fast that they fairly sputtered. Over in a remote corner sat a very voguishly clad young lady in a hat listed about three degrees too far to starboard. She had applied to Joe Lippsky that morning for a job in the chorus, and, as he knew one of the showgirls was developing symptoms of a temperament, he had told the new applicant to wait and see Jepson, the director, when the rehearsal was over. It was now three o'clock in the afternoon, and the rehearsal had been going steadily since ten that morning."
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