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Rinehart, Mary Roberts, 1876-1958

"Bab: a Sub-Deb"

"
"There was about two hundred lined up here this morning, Miss," he said.
"Which one would it be, now?"
How my heart sank!
"About what time would he be coming?" he said. "Things have been kind of
mixed-up around here today, owing to a little trouble this morning. But
perhaps I'll remember him."
But, although Adrian is of an unusual tipe, I felt that I could not
describe him, besides having a terrable headache. So I asked if he would
lend me carfare, which he did with a strange look.
"You're not feeling sick, Miss, are you?" he said. But I could not stay
to converce, as it was then time for the curtain to go up, and still no
Adrian.
I had but one refuge in mind, Carter Brooks, and to him I fled on the
wings of misery in the street car. I burst into his advertizing office
like a furey.
"Where is he?" I demanded. "Where have you and your plotting hidden
him?"
"Who? Beresford?" he asked in a placid maner. "He is at his hotel, I
beleive, putting beefstake on a bad eye. Beleive me, Bab----"
"Beresford!" I cried, in scorn and wrechedness. "What is he to me? Or
his eye either? I refer to Mr. Egleston. It is time for the curtain
to go up now, and unless he has by this time returned, there can be no
performence."
"Look here," Carter said sudenly, "you look awfuly queer, Bab. Your
face----"
I stamped my foot.
"What does my face matter?" I demanded. "I no longer care for him, but I
have ruined Miss Everett's couzin's play unless he turns up.


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