"You really _do_ think it's a good thing?" Edward Henry ventured, for
he had not yet been convinced of the entire goodness of theatrical
enterprise near Piccadilly Circus.
Mr. Seven Sachs convinced him--not by argument but by the sincerity
of his gestures and tones. For it was impossible to question that Mr.
Seven Sachs knew what he was talking about. The shape of Mr. Seven
Sachs's chin was alone enough to prove that Mr. Sachs was incapable
of a mere ignorant effervescence. Everything about Mr. Sachs was
persuasive and confidence-inspiring. His long silences had the easy
vigour of oratory, and they served also to make his speech peculiarly
impressive. Moreover, he was a handsome and a dark man, and probably
half a dozen years younger than Edward Henry. And the discipline of
lime-light had taught him the skill to be forever graceful. And his
smile, rare enough, was that of a boy.
"Of course," said he, "if Miss Euclid and the others had had any sense
they might have done very well for themselves. If you ask me, the
option alone is worth ten thousand dollars. But then they haven't any
sense! And that's all there is to it."
"So you'd advise me to go ahead with the affair on my own?"
Mr. Seven Sachs, his black eyes twinkling, leaned forward and became
rather intimately humorous:
"You look as if you wanted advice, don't you?" said he.
Pages:
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157