ABSTRACT
KARYL PENDRAGON stood before the footlights when the curtain had fallen upon Antony and Cleopatra, flushed with success under her dark paint. In her glorious and always unexpected beauty she stood, smiling radiantly, and her voice vibrated through the great theatre till it raised deep echoes, like a mighty golden bell, and shook every heart into strange emotion. Its timbre was rich and full, strong and yet low, with no masculine quality in its depths, and each syllable she uttered caught the ears of her listeners even to the uttermost parts of the building.
