Human nature, I guess. I used to think that if I could ever meet an
actress I'd be the happiest thing in the world. Well, I've met a lot
of 'em, and God knows I'm not as happy as I was when I was WISHING I
could meet one of them. Listen! Hear that? Rushcroft is reciting Gunga
Din. You can't hear the thunder for the noise he's making."
They descended the stairs and entered the tap-room, where a dozen men
were seated around the tables, all of them with pewter mugs in front
of them. Standing at the top table,--that is to say, the one farthest
removed from the door and commanding the attention of every creature
in the room--was the imposing figure of Lyndon Rushcroft. He was
reciting, in a sonorous voice and with tremendous fervour, the famous
Kipling poem. Barnes had heard it given a score of times at The
Players in New York, and knew it by heart. He was therefore able to
catch Mr. Rushcroft in the very reprehensible act of taking liberties
with the designs of the author. The "star," after a sharp and rather
startled look at the newcomer, deliberately "cut" four stanzas and
rushed somewhat hastily through the concluding verse, marring a
tremendous climax.
A genial smile wiped the tragic expression from his face.
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