"I want him to be in every play. I never go to one without thinking how
much better he would be than the other leading man."

"I saw that little what's-his-name imitate him the other evening. Really
it's rather a shame."

"Yes, I've seen it. I couldn't help laughing, but I hated myself for it.
I'm sure, too, he doesn't waggle his head like that."

"No! I couldn't see the point of that at all; but the people shrieked."

"Pooh, they'd laugh at anything."

"What did you like him best of all in?"

"That's difficult. Of course he was priceless as the policeman. But then he
was priceless as the American too, in that thing before this."

"Well, I think--"

And so on. Except that I never mention his name, and I have suppressed the
titles of the plays, this is practically an exact reproduction of the
conversation. Naturally many of the sentences overlapped, for ladies no
less than gentlemen often talk at the same time; but otherwise I have
reported faithfully.

And who was the subject of these eulogies? You will guess at once when I
say that he is probably the only actor in history who is referred to more
often by his Christian name only than by his surname or full name. These