It was the luncheon hour, and The Players was crowded with its members; not only actors, but men of every profession, from the tall, robust architect to the quiet surgeon tucked away among the cushions of the corner divan. In the hall—giving sound advice, perhaps, to a newly fledged tragedian—sat some dear, gray-haired old gentleman in white socks who puffed silently at a long cigar, while from out the low-ceiled, black-oak dining room, resplendent in pewter and hazy with tobacco smoke, came intermittent outbursts of laughter. It was the hour when idlers and workers alike throw off the labours of the day for a quiet chat with their fellows.

The Lady of Big Shanty转载自网络，转载至本站只是为了让更多读者阅读欣赏，本站愿与您一起共建良好的阅读环境！

笔下文学内容均来自互联网，如不慎侵害您的权益，请联系网页底部邮箱，我们将尽快删除。