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Half A Chance by Frederic S. Isham
page 48 of 258 (18%)
He looked at his watch, rang sharply a bell.

"Put out my clothes," he said to the servant who appeared with a lamp,
"and have a cab at the door."

The opera had already begun, but pandemonium still reigned about the
box-office, and it was half an hour before John Steele succeeded in
reaching the little aperture, with a request for anything that chanced
to be left down-stairs. Armed with a bit of pasteboard, Steele was
stopped as he was about to enter. A thunder of applause from within,
indicating that the first act had come to an end, was followed by the
usual egress of black and white figures, impatient for cigarettes and
light lobby gossip.

"Divine, eh? The opera, I mean!" A voice accosted John Steele, and,
turning, he beheld a familiar face with black whiskers, that of Captain
Forsythe. "This is somewhat different from the morning's environment?"

"Yes," said the other. "But your first question," with a smile, "I'm
afraid I can't answer. I've just come; and, if I hadn't--well, I'm no
judge of music."

"Then you must look as if you were!" laughed the captain frankly. "Don't
know one jolly note from another, but, for goodness' sake, don't betray
me. Just been discussing trills and pizzicatos with Lady Wray."

For a few moments they continued their talk; chance had made them known
to each other some time before, and Captain Forsythe had improved every
opportunity to become better acquainted with one for whom he entertained
a frank admiration. Steele's reserve, however, was not easily
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