customers who does not know a good
article when he has got it.
I was told the other day of the writer of a musical farce (or is it
comedy?) who was most desirous that his leading character should be a
perfect gentleman. During the dress rehearsal, the actor representing
the part had to open his cigarette case and request another perfect
gentleman to help himself. The actor drew forth his case. It caught the
critical eye of the author.
"Good heavens!" he cried, "what do you call that?"
"A cigarette case," answered the actor.
"But, my dear boy," exclaimed the author, "surely it is silver?"
"I know," admitted the actor, "it does perhaps suggest that I am living
beyond my means, but the truth is I picked it up cheap."
The author turned to the manager.
"This won't do," he explained, "a real gentleman always carries a gold
cigarette case. He must be a gentleman, or there's no point in the
plot."
"Don't let us endanger any point the plot may happen to possess, for
goodness sake," agreed the manager, "let him by all means have a gold
cigarette case."
How one may know the perfect Gentleman.
So, regardless of expense, a gold cigarette case was obtained and put
down to expenses. And yet on the first night of that musical play, when
that leading personage smashed a tray over a waiter's head, and, after a
row with the police, came home drunk to his wife, even that gold
cigarette case failed to convince one that the man was a gentleman beyond
all doubt.
The old writers appear to have been singularly unaware of the importance
attaching to these socks, and ties, and cigarette-cases. They told us
merely what the man felt and thought. What reliance can we place upon
them? How could they possibly have known what sort of man he was
underneath his clothes? Tweed or broadcloth is not transparent. Even
could they have got rid of his clothes there would have remained his
flesh and bones. It was pure guess-work. They did not observe.
The modern writer goes to work scientifically. He tells us that the
creature wore a made-up tie. From that we know he was not a gentleman;
it follows as the night the day. The fashionable novelist notices the
young man's socks. It reveals to us whether the marriage would have been
successful or a failure. It is necessary to convince us that the hero is
a perfect gentleman: the author gives him a gold cigarette case.
A well-known dramatist has left it on record th
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