Beth Norvell | Page 9

mince words.
"Nothing personally just so long as he keeps away from me," she
retorted clearly. "He is coarse, vulgar, boorish, and I have far too much
respect for myself to permit such a man to touch me, either upon the
stage or off; to have him kiss me would be an unbearable insult."

Albrecht, totally unable to comprehend the feelings of the girl, shifted
uneasily beneath the sharp sting of her words, yet continued to smile
idiotically.
"Dot is very nice, quite melodramatic, but it is not brofessional,
Meess," he stammered, striving to get hold of some satisfactory
argument. "Vy, Mooney vos not so pad. Meess Lyle she act dot bart mit
him all der last season, and make no kick. Dunder! vat you vant--an
angel? You don't hafe to take dot bart mit me, or Meester Lane either,
don 't it, hey?"
Miss Norvell turned contemptuously away from him, her face white
with determination.
"If you really want to know, there is only one man in all your troupe I
would consent to play it with," she declared calmly.
"Und dot is?"
"I do not even know his name," and she turned her head just
sufficiently to look directly into Albrecht's surprised face; "but I refer
to your new utility man; he, at least, possesses some of the ordinary
attributes of a gentleman."
The door of her dressing-room opened and closed, leaving the startled
manager standing alone without, gasping for breath, his thick lips
gurgling impotent curses, while Winston discreetly drew farther back
amid the intricacy of scenery.
CHAPTER III
A BREAKING OF ICE
The troupe in its wandering arrived at Bolton Junction early on a
Saturday afternoon, and Winston, lingering a moment in the hotel
office, overheard Miss Norvell ask the manager if they would probably
spend Sunday there; and later question the hotel clerk regarding any
Episcopalian services in the town. Their rather late arrival, however,

kept him so exceedingly busy with stage preparation for the evening's
performance that this conversation scarcely recurred to mind until his
night's labor had been completed. Then, in the silence of his room, he
resolved upon an immediate change in conditions, or else the deliberate
giving up of further experiment altogether. He was long since tired
enough of it, yet a strange, almost unaccountable attraction for this
young woman continued binding him to disagreeable servitude.
He came down stairs the following morning, his plans completely
determined upon. He was carefully dressed in the neat business suit
which had been packed away ever since his first reckless plunge into
theatrical life, and thus attired he felt more like his old self than at any
moment since his surrender to the dictation of Albrecht. In some degree
self-confidence, audacity, hope, came promptly trooping back with the
mere donning of clean linen and semi-fashionable attire, so that
Winston "utility" became Winston gentleman, in the twinkling of an
eye. The other members of the troupe slept late, leaving him to
breakfast alone after vainly loitering about the office in the hope that
Miss Norvell might by some chance appear and keep him company. It
was almost mortifying to behold that young woman enter the deserted
dining-room soon after he had returned to the lonely office, but she
gave no sign of recognition in passing, and his returned audacity
scarcely proved sufficient to permit his encroachment upon her privacy.
He could only linger a moment at the desk in an effort to catch a better
view of her through the partially open door.
Nervously gripping a freshly lighted cigar, Winston finally strolled
forth upon the wide porch to await, with all possible patience, the
opportunity he felt assured was fast approaching. It was a bright spring
morning, sufficiently warm to be comfortable without in the sunshine,
although the mountains overshadowing the town were yet white with
snow. The one long, straggling business street appeared sufficiently
lonely, being almost deserted, the shops closed. The notable contrast
between its present rather dreary desolation and the wild revelry of the
previous night seemed really painful, while the solemn prevailing
stillness served to weaken Winston's bold resolutions and brought him
a strange timidity. He slowly strolled a block or more, peering in at the

shop windows, yet never venturing beyond easy view of the hotel steps.
Then he sauntered as deliberately back again. Lane and Mooney were
now stationed upon the porch, tipping far back in their chairs, their feet
deposited on the convenient railing, smoking and conversing noisily
with a group of travelling men. Winston, to his disgust, caught little
scraps of the coarse stories exchanged, constantly greeted by roars of
laughter, but drew as far away from their immediate vicinity as possible,
leaning idly against the rail. Far down the street, from some unseen
steeple, a church bell rang solemnly.