She laughed easily when someone made a joke and happily conversed with Miss Lachance when they weren’t on stage, and on the stage, she delivered her lines with ease. “Good your Highness, patience,” demanded Dahlia, her voice shrill amidst the whimpering departure of the messenger, a quivering boy. “In praising Antony, I have dispraised Caesar,” said Marion, lifting her hand to her brow. Dahlia nodded solemnly. “Many times, madam.” “I am paid for it now,” she despaired, reciting her next lines with near melodramatic torment. Then she spun around, her motions weighted with desperation, and faced Mr. Brogan, the curly-haired chap who played Alexas. “Go to the fellow, good Alexas; bid him Report the feature of Octavia, her years, Her inclination, let him not leave out The color of her hair. Bring me word quickly.” Mr. Brogan nodded and bowed deeply before leaving the stage at Mr.
