I can't do it

  • Carrie thanked him and walked briskly out fake oakleys, while the young man
    gazed after her through one of the side windows of his gilded
    coop.

    "Good-looking," he said to himself, and proceeded to visions of
    condescensions on her part which were exceedingly flattering to
    himself.

    One of the principal comedy companies of the day was playing an
    engagement at the Grand Opera House.  Here Carrie asked to see
    the manager of the company.  She little knew the trivial
    authority of this individual, or that had there been a vacancy an
    actor would have been sent on from New York to fill it.

    "His office is upstairs replica oakleys," said a man in the box-office.

    Several persons were in the manager's office, two lounging near a
    window, another talking to an individual sitting at a roll-top
    desk--the manager.  Carrie glanced nervously about, and began to
    fear that she should have to make her appeal before the assembled
    company, two of whom--the occupants of the window--were already
    observing her carefully.

    "I can't do it," the manager was saying; "it's a rule of Mr.
    Frohman's never to allow visitors back of the stage.  No, no!"

    Carrie timidly waited wholesale oakley sunglasses, standing.  There were chairs, but no one
    motioned her to be seated.  The individual to whom the manager
    had been talking went away quite crestfallen.  That luminary
    gazed earnestly at some papers before him, as if they were of the
    greatest concern.

    "Did you see that in the 'Herald' this morning about Nat Goodwin,
    Harris?"

    "No," said the person addressed foakleys.  "What was it?"
    "Made quite a curtain address at Hooley's last night.  Better
    look it up."