to read his part in a slow, solemn, tragic voice. Good Heavens! exclaims the dramatist to himself, this fellow is supposed to be a jolly bon-vivant. Meanwhile the producer representing Clara and the player representing a jolly bon-vivant recite the gloomy responses which are meant to represent sparkling dialogue.
“When do you expect your hubsand?” the player chants in a corpse-like voice.
“Husband,” corrects the producer.
“But it says hubsand here,” the player insists.
“It’s merely an error in typing. Just correct it.”
“Why on earth can’t they type things properly?” says the player in a disgusted manner, digging his pencil into his part.
Meanwhile the agonized group is getting under way, when all of a sudden, stop! A sentence is missing in one of the parts, after “it was his first love,” and before “you are fond of your food.” Stop, the parts are mixed here. And then on again: indistinctly,
C
