Half a Rogue

Harold MacGrath
Half a Rogue

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Title: Half a Rogue
Author: Harold MacGrath
Release Date: December, 2003 [EBook #4790] [Yes, we are more than
one year ahead of schedule] [This file was first posted on March 20,

2002]
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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HALF A
ROGUE ***

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Half A Rogue

By Harold MacGrath

To The Memory Of My Mother

Half A Rogue
Chapter I

It was Warrington's invariable habit--when no business or social
engagement pressed him to go elsewhere--to drop into a certain quaint
little restaurant just off Broadway for his dinners. It was out of the way;
the throb and rattle of the great commercial artery became like the
far-off murmur of the sea, restful rather than annoying. He always
made it a point to dine alone, undisturbed. The proprietor nor his
silent-footed waiters had the slightest idea who Warrington was. To

them he was simply a profitable customer who signified that he dined
there in order to be alone His table was up stairs. Below, there was
always the usual dinner crowd till theater time; and the music had the
faculty of luring his thoughts astray, being, as he was, fonder of music
than of work. As a matter of fact, it was in this little restaurant that he
winnowed the day's ideas, revamped scenes, trimmed the rough edges
of his climaxes, revised this epigram or rejected this or that line; all on
the backs of envelopes and on the margins of newspapers. In his den at
his bachelor apartments, he worked; but here he dreamed, usually
behind the soothing, opalescent veil of Madame Nicotine.
What a marvelous thing a good after-dinner cigar is! In the smoke of it
the poor man sees his ships come in, the poet sees his muse beckoning
with hands full of largess, the millionaire reverts to his early struggles,
and the lover sees his divinity in a thousand graceful poses.
To-night, however, Warrington's cigar was without magic. He was out
of sorts. Things had gone wrong at the rehearsal that morning. The star
had demanded the removal of certain lines which gave the leading man
an opportunity to shine in the climax of the third act. He had labored a
whole month over this climax, and he revolted at the thought of
changing it to suit the whim of a capricious woman.
Everybody had agreed that this climax was the best the young dramatist
had yet constructed. A critic who had been invited to a reading had
declared that it lacked little of being great. And at this late hour the star
wanted it changed in order to bring her alone in the lime-light! It was
preposterous. As Warrington was on the first wave of popularity, the
business manager and the stage manager both agreed to leave the
matter wholly in the dramatist's hands. He resolutely declined to make
a single alteration in the scene. There was a fine storm. The star
declared that if the change was not made at once she would leave the
company. In making this declaration she knew her strength. Her
husband was rich; a contract was nothing to her. There was not another
actress of her ability to be found; the season was too late. There was not
another woman available, nor would any other manager lend one. As
the opening performance was but two weeks hence, you will realize

why Warrington's mood this night was anything but amiable.
He scowled at his cigar. There was always something, some sacrifice to
make, and seldom for art's sake. It is all very well to witness a play
from the other side of the footlights; everything appears to work out so
smoothly, easily and without effort. To this phenomenon
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