I 'm no lightning change artist. Lizzie won't care; she 's got
good sense, and the others can go hang. Come on, Ned; we 'll run over
to the Chicago Club and have a bite, then a smoke and chat about Alma
Mater; after that, the Grand."
* * * * * *
The great opera house was densely crowded from pit to dome, the boxes
and parquet brilliant with color and fashion, the numberless tiers of
seats rising above, black with packed, expectant humanity. Before
eight o'clock late comers had been confronted in the lobby with the
"Standing Room Only" announcement; and now even this had been turned to
the wall, while the man at the ticket window shook his head to
disappointed inquirers. And that was an audience to be remembered, to
be held notable, to be editorially commented upon by the press the next
morning.
There was reason for it. A child of Chicago, daughter in a family of
standing and exclusiveness, after winning notable successes in San
Francisco, in London, in New York, had, at last, consented to return
home, and appear for the first time in her native city.
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