The Easiest Way

The Easiest Way, by Eugene
Walter and Arthur

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Title: The Easiest Way A Story of Metropolitan Life
Author: Eugene Walter and Arthur Hornblow

Release Date: April 16, 2007 [eBook #21116]
Language: English
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THE EASIEST WAY
A Story of Metropolitan Life
by
EUGENE WALTER and ARTHUR HORNBLOW
Illustrations by Archie Gunn and Joseph Byron

[Illustration: PICKING UP A HAT, LAURA LOOKED AT HERSELF
IN THE MIRROR. Frontispiece. Page 251.]

W. Dillingham Company Publishers New York Copyright, 1911, by G.
W. Dillingham Company

The Easiest Way.

A FOREWORD
In presenting this story of a déclassée who attempts to redeem her
scarlet past by a disinterested, honest attachment only to meet with dire,
miserable failure, the authors wish to make it plain that their heroine
and her associates are in no way to be identified with the dramatic
profession. Laura Murdock represents the type of woman of easy virtue
who is sometimes seen behind the footlights and helps to give the

theatre a bad name. Although destitute of the slightest histrionic talent,
she styles herself an "actress" in order to better conceal her true
vocation. As a class, the earnest, hardworking men and women who
devote their lives to the dramatic art are entitled to the highest regard
and respect. No profession counts in its ranks more virtuous women,
more honorable men than the artists who give lustre to the American
stage. If such women as Laura Murdock succeed in gaining a foothold
on the boards it must be looked upon merely as an unfortunate accident.
The better element in the theatre shuns them and their theatrical
aspirations are not encouraged by reputable managers.

ILLUSTRATIONS
Page
Picking up a hat, Laura looked at herself in the mirror Frontispiece 251
"I've bought a house for you on Riverside Drive" 86
She began to sew a rip in her skirt 162
She sank down on her knees beside him 273
Laura commenced to pack the trunk 307
John stood looking at her in silence 337
She crouched down motionless on the trunk 344

THE EASIEST WAY
CHAPTER I.
The hour was late and the theatres were emptying. The crowds, coming
from every direction at once, were soon a confused, bewildered mass of
elbowing humanity. In the proximity of Broadway and Forty-second

Street, a mob of smartly-dressed people pushed unceremoniously this
way and that. They swept the sidewalks like a resistless torrent,
recklessly attempting to force a path across the carriage blocked road,
darting in and out under restive horses' heads, barely rescued by
stalwart traffic policemen from the murderous wheels of onrushing
automobiles. They scrambled into taxicabs, trains and trolleys, all
impelled by a furious, yet not unreasonable, desire to reach home with
the least possible delay. These were the wise ones. Others lingered,
struggling feebly in the whirling vortex. Not yet surfeited with the
evening's amusement, they now craved recherché gastronomical joys.
With appetites keen for the succulent, if always indigestible, dainties of
after-theatre suppers, they sought the hospitable portals of Gotham's
splendidly appointed lobster palaces which, scattered in amazing
profusion along the Great White Way, their pretentious facades
flamboyantly ablaze with light, seemed so many oases of luxurious
comfort set down in the nocturnal desert of closed shops.
"Move on there!" thundered an irate policeman. "What the h--ll are you
blocking the way for? I've half a mind to lock you fellows up!"
This to two grasping jehus, who, while quarrelling over a prospective
fare, had so well succeeded in interlocking their respective wheels that
a quarter-of-a-mile-long block resulted instantly. The officer,
exasperated beyond endurance, was apoplectic in the face from the too
sudden strain upon his temper. Starting angrily forward he seemed as if
about to carry out his threat, and the effect of this was magic. The
offending cabbies quickly disentangled themselves, and once more the
long string of vehicles began to move. Women screamed shrilly, as
with their escorts they dodged the horses' hoofs, the trolleys clanged
their gongs, electric-signs blinked their pictorial designs, noisy boys
yelled hoarsely "final extras!" The din was nerve racking. One had to
shout