"What if a voice in the auditorium should suddenly shout that Maxine de Renzie had betrayed France for money, English money ?" How these hands which applauded would tingle to seize me by the throat and choke my life out.
Still, with these thoughts murmuring in my head like a kind of dreadful undertone, I went on.

An actress can always go on--till she breaks.

I think that she can't be bent, as other women can: and I envy the women who haven't had to learn the lesson of hardening themselves.

It seems to me that they must suffer less.
At last came the end of the first act.

But there were five curtain calls.