The only thing Mr. Yates could talk of was the theater, including its arrangements, dresses, rehearsals, and jokes, as he was deeply affected by the loss of the theatrical opportunity due to the sudden death in his family.
And he did come, rather earlier than had been expected, in consequence of the sudden breaking-up of a large party assembled for gaiety at the house of another friend, which he had left Weymouth to join. He came on the wings of disappointment, and with his head full of acting, for it had been a theatrical party. The play in which he had been cast was within two days of performing, when the sudden death of one of the nearest connections of the family had destroyed the party and dispersed the performers. To be so near happiness, so near fame, only to lose it all, was an injury to be keenly felt, and Mr. Yates could talk of nothing else. The theater, with its arrangements and dresses, rehearsals and jokes, was his never-failing subject, and to boast of the past was his only consolation. What was the only thing Mr. Yates could talk of? (paragraph 2)
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