Explore "The Wings of Victory" by Fred M. White on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Sylvia smiled back again. It was impossible to feel depressed in the presence of Maxwell Frick. Here was a man who had been connected with the theatrical profession all his life, a sound and experienced comedian without a vice save his own incomparable optimism, and yet a man who never contrived to remain in a show, as he called it, for more than a month at the outside. He was known in the profession from one end of England to the other; he was popular, and yet most of his time he spent in a desperate struggle to live. A little more businesslike aptitude and he might long ago have had a theatre of his own.
And yet here he was, shabby and smiling, stranded on the platform of a local station miles away from everywhere, and treating the whole matter as if it were the finest joke in the world.