“I start work to-morrow, on The Evening Courier.”
“Oh, Henry, I'm glad. Good luck! It ought to be interesting.”
“At least,” said he heavily, “it will be a slight contact with reality,” and hurried away.
CHAPTER XVII—ENTER GRACE DERRING
THE TRUFFLER opened at Albany. Before ten o'clock of that first evening even the author knew that-something was wrong with the second act.
The company wandered across New York State into Pennsylvania; Peter, by day and night, rewriting that unhappy act. The famous producer, Max Neuerman, fat but tireless, called endless rehearsals. There was hot coffee at one a. m., more hot coffee at five A. m., but it was never so hot as the scalding tears of the leading lady, Miss Trevelyan, who couldn't, to save her, make Peter's lines come real.
'There were, also, dingy Eagle Houses and Hotel Lincolns where soggy food was hurled at you in thick dishes by strong-armed waitresses.
Finally, Neuerman himself dictated a new scene that proved worse than any of Peter's. The publicity man submitted a new second-act curtain. The stage manager said that you couldn't blame Miss Trevelyan; she was an emotional actress, and should not be asked to convey the restraint of ironic comedy—in which belief he rewrote the act himself.