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SYNOPSIS OF THE PRECEDING CHAPTERS
A Résumé of the Present and Rapidly Aging Theatrical Season
It is perhaps as well, before the Clean Books Bill is presented to the Legislature, and in order to prepare for what may come to us in future first nights, to take one glance backward at what the current dramatic season has already offered. As we remember it:
Captain Louis Wolheim (enters drunk): “Say, you. . !What the . . . goes on?”
Miss Pauline Lord (collapses into a chair): “Oh, it can’t be true! I . . . Dr. Holt . . . !”
Miss Lenore Ulric: “. . . . . bed . . . . pyjamas . . . lingerie.”
Miss Lord (expectantly): “. . . . . . six months . . . . . . . !”
Mr. Alfred Lunt: “Wiz my own wife! . . . ! Oh, Borjzha moi! Borjzha moi! Borjzha moi!”
Captain Wolheim: “Well, I′m a . . . . . . if I ever . . . . . !”
Miss Ulric: “. . . . . stockings . . . chaise-longue . . . evening.”
The missing dialogue will be supplied by Plymouth, Klaw, Booth and Belasco Theatres, or by your own bootlegger.—R. B.
