herself. She began to walk faster.
"No tickets, Miss," James R. Ford told
her, before she could open her mouth. She
was not the only one there. A small crowd
of people stood at the theater door.
"Absolutely sold out. Itтs because the
President and General Grant will be
attending."
James Ford held an American flag in his
arms. He raised it. "Iтm just decorating
the Presidentтs box." It was the last
night of a lackluster run. He would never
have guessed they would sell every seat.
He thought Annaтs face showed
disappointment. He was happy, himself, and
it made him kind. "Theyтre rehearsing
inside," he told her. "For General Grant!
You just go on in for a peek."
He opened the doors and she entered. Three
women and a man came with her. Anna had
never seen any of the others before, but
supposed they were friends of Mr. Fordтs.
They forced themselves through the doors
beside her and then sat next to her in the
straight-backed cane chairs just back from
the stage.
Laura Keene herself stood in the wings
awaiting her entrance. The curtain was
pulled back, so that Anna could see her.
Her cheeks were round with rouge.
The stage was not deep. Mrs.
Mountchessington stood on it with her
daughter, Augusta, and Asa Trenchard.
"All I crave is affection," Augusta was
saying. She shimmered with insincerity.
Anna repeated the lines to herself. She
imagined herself as an actress, married to
JW, courted by him daily before an
audience of a thousand, in a hundred
different towns. They would play the love
scenes over and over again, each one as
true as the last. She would hardly know
where her real and imaginary lives
