"Gad! I'm hungry. What makes this Fenger hang
around so? I'm going to tell him to keep away, some day.
The way he stares at you. Let's go somewhere to-night, Fan.
Or have some people in. I can't sit about after I've
played. Olga always used to have a supper party, or
something."
"All right, Ted. Would you like the theater?"
For the first time in her life she felt a little whisper of
sympathy for the despised Olga. Perhaps, after all, she had
not been wholly to blame.
He was to leave Sunday morning for Cleveland, where he would
play Monday. He had insisted on taking Mizzi with him,
though Fanny had railed and stormed. Theodore had had his
way.
"She's used to it. She likes to travel, don't you, Mizzi?
You should have seen her in Russia, and all over Germany,
and in Sweden. She's a better traveler than her dad."
Saturday morning's papers were kind, but cool. They used
words such as promising, uneven, overambitious, gifted.
Theodore crumpled the lot into a ball and hurled them across
the room, swearing horribly.
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