Actorviews (1923)

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The Duncan Sisters and Royalty HE world’s greatest Sister Act is lunching with me — and now I am glad it’s at the Drake. Even if I have to subsist the next six days on hash and sinkers, this palatial place is the only place today for the Duncan darlings. They are fresh from London (not too fresh) and the King of Spain and the Prince of Wales. Of course I knew them when — but they don’t look it. Rosetta, with her Bond street walking stick and Mayfair turban and a dash of hunting pink in her waistcoat, and Vivien, a tailored trance by Redfern, are just too smart for anything less than royalty. But I’m not downcast; I’m glad the old spring suit has been recently asphyxiated; and I’m glad the little blonde Duncan Sisters still treat me as a friend and brother. Royalty is served with the fish — with, to be meticulous, the trout. But first, of course, comes melon — honeydew tortured with lemon ; and with the melon the stage is, in a manner of speaking, set. Which is to say that during melon we get away from Chicago’s Colonial Theater and their great hit there with Fred Stone in “Tip-Top,” and over to dear old London, where a couple of months back they landed for a vacation, and instead of getting it were seized by Mr. De Courville, the Mr. Dillingham and Mr. Ziegfeld too of the United Kingdom, and on two days’ notice interjected into Mr. De