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August 30, 2010

Stay out of the way of that Hedda Gabler woman. I’m serious. If you stretch your legs, she might well trip over them. She’s a frisky little thing, in her cropped black pants and ankle boots, prone to activities like jumping up and down on an ottoman or pouring Champagne over a teetotaling guest. And she’s often close enough to you — yes, you, lucky theatergoer — to plop right down into your lap, should she choose.

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