The lad hesitated. " "Mr. ” John said. “Oh I most definitely think so. Since then he has persistently annoyed me. "Your son," replied Jack,—"your miserable, repentant son. But his treasured dream lay shattered at his feet. You would rather live like the scum of the earth, in that little brown hovel you call a house, in bourgeois paradise. In spite of all this, he grew daily better and stronger, and his spirits revived. I don't have a phone in my room. To recreate the era, I deliberately tried to avoid creating a thinly disguised bodice ripper where an “empowered” woman mouthed off to prospective suitors in jerkins and tights, in other words, a typical romance novel. You see me here, an admitted failure in the object to which I have devoted two years of my life. My engagement at the ‘Garrick’ terminates Saturday week, and then I am free.
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