Guy Hammersley; or, Clearing his Name — page 171: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

162 GUY HAMMERSLEY. lim, and all my other friends back there in the theater. I dare say they are wondering where I am and how I feel,” and the fellow gave a short, bitter laugh as he threw a glance over his shoulder. ‘‘T wonder if he can be mad?” was the thought that crossed Guy’s mind at thisjuncture. But before he could come toa decision on this point his compan- ion made an announcement that put this possibility mut of the question. ‘*'You see I wrote the play that was produced at the Criterion to-night for the first time, and it was a dead failure. I could see that myself by the middle of the first act, but I stood it out till they were half through the fourth, then I cut stick. ‘The place was jammed with all my friends who had come to see my triumph, and I positively couldn’t face them after things had turned out the way they did. Indeed [I feel as if I never wanted tosee any one of them again. I had talked so much about it and let everybody suppose that it was going to have a tremendous run, that I just feel as if I wanted to transfer myself to some place where I shouldn’t meet anybody who ever knew me.” ‘‘Was it your first play?” Guy ventured to inquire as the other paused, and jabbed savagely with his silver-topped cane at some theater posters on a fence they were passing. ‘< Yes, and my last,” came the promptreply. ‘‘Of course I was lifted to the seventh heaven when it was accepted, and I can see now acted like an idiot by talk- ing to everybody I met about it, telling them how swimmingly the rehearsals were going and all that.” Gomichbooks (€(©) m