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diff --git a/34814-h/34814-h.htm b/34814-h/34814-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..71caf85 --- /dev/null +++ b/34814-h/34814-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,6957 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" +"http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en" xml:lang="en"> + <head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> +<title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of My Actor-husband, by Anonymous. +</title> +<style type="text/css"> + p {margin-top:.75em;text-align:justify;margin-bottom:.75em;text-indent:2%;} + +.ast {text-align:center;text-indent:0%;letter-spacing:10px;} + +.c {text-align:center;text-indent:0%;} + +.nind {text-indent:0%;} + +.r {text-align:right;margin-right:5%;} + + h1,h3 {margin-top:15%;text-align:center;clear:both;} + + hr {width:90%;margin:2em auto 2em auto;clear:both;color:black;} + + hr.full {width:100%;margin:5% auto 5% auto;border:4px double gray;} + + table {margin-left:auto;margin-right:auto;border:none;text-align:left;} + + body{margin-left:2%;margin-right:2%;background:#fdfdfd;color:black;font-family:"Times New Roman", serif;font-size:medium;} + +a:link {background-color:#ffffff;color:blue;text-decoration:none;} + + link {background-color:#ffffff;color:blue;text-decoration:none;} + +a:visited {background-color:#ffffff;color:purple;text-decoration:none;} + +a:hover {background-color:#ffffff;color:#FF0000;text-decoration:underline;} + +.smcap {font-variant:small-caps;font-size:95%;} + +.blockquot{margin:4% auto 5% auto;font-size:90%;} + + img {border:none;} +</style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of My Actor-Husband, by Anonymous + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: My Actor-Husband + A true story of American stage life + +Author: Anonymous + +Release Date: January 1, 2011 [EBook #34814] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MY ACTOR-HUSBAND *** + + + + +Produced by Chuck Greif and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was +produced from images generously made available by the +Digital & Multimedia Center, Michigan State University +Libraries.) + + + + + + +</pre> + +<hr class="full" /> + +<p class="c"><img src="images/cover.jpg" +alt="image of book's cover" +title="image of book's cover" +width="371" +height="550" +id="coverpage" /></p> + +<h1>MY<br /> +ACTOR-HUSBAND</h1> + +<p><a name="page_001" id="page_001"></a></p> + +<p><a name="page_002" id="page_002"></a></p> + +<p><a name="page_003" id="page_003"></a></p> + +<p class="c"><i>A TRUE STORY<br /> +OF<br /> +AMERICAN STAGE LIFE</i></p> + +<p> +<br /> +</p> + +<p class="c">NEW YORK<br /> +THE MACAULAY COMPANY<br /> +1913</p> + +<p> +<br /> +</p> + +<p class="c">C<small>OPYRIGHT</small>, 1912, by<br /> +J<small>OHN</small> L<small>ANE</small> C<small>OMPANY</small><br /> +</p> + +<p> +<br /> +</p> +<p> +<br /> +</p> + +<p class="c">To<br /> +PROFESSOR CHARLES T. COPELAND<br /> +Of Harvard University</p> + +<p><a name="page_006" id="page_006"></a></p> + +<p> +<br /> +</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="toc"> +<tr><td><a href="#CHAPTER_I"><b>CHAPTER I, </b></a> +<a href="#CHAPTER_II"><b>II, </b></a> +<a href="#CHAPTER_III"><b>III, </b></a> +<a href="#CHAPTER_IV"><b>IV, </b></a> +<a href="#CHAPTER_V"><b>V, </b></a> +<a href="#CHAPTER_VI"><b>VI, </b></a> +<a href="#CHAPTER_VII"><b>VII, </b></a> +<a href="#CHAPTER_VIII"><b>VIII, </b></a> +<a href="#CHAPTER_IX"><b>IX, </b></a> +<a href="#CHAPTER_X"><b>X, </b></a> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XI"><b>XI, </b></a> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XII"><b>XII, </b></a> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XIII"><b>XIII, </b></a> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XIV"><b>XIV, </b></a> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XV"><b>XV, </b></a> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XVI"><b>XVI, </b></a> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XVII"><b>XVII, </b></a> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII"><b>XVIII, </b></a> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XIX"><b>XIX</b></a> +</td></tr> +</table> + +<p><a name="page_007" id="page_007"></a></p> + +<h3><a name="FOREWORD_A_RETROSPECT" id="FOREWORD_A_RETROSPECT"></a>FOREWORD—A RETROSPECT</h3> + +<p class="nind">I<small>N</small> presenting this autobiography to the public, the author feels it +incumbent upon herself to impress upon her readers the fidelity and +strict adherence to the truth, relative to the conditions which surround +the player. In no instance has there been either exaggeration or a +resort to imaginative creation. It is a true story with all the ugliness +of truth unsoftened and unembellished. Nor is the situation presented an +exceptional one. One has but to follow the career of the average actor +to be convinced that the dramatic profession is not only inconsistent +with but wholly hostile to the institution of marriage. Managers and +actors alike know and admit this to be the truth—amongst themselves. +What they say in print is, of course, merely so much self-exploitation. +The success of any branch of "the show-business" is dependent on the +bureau of publicity.</p> + +<p>To one intimately acquainted with the life, the effusions of certain +actors' wives, which<a name="page_008" id="page_008"></a> from time to time appear in magazines for women, +are ironically humourous. They are to be put down as the babbling of the +newly-weds or the hunger for seeing their names in print. To hear the +wife of a star declare that she always goes to the theatre and sits in +the wings to watch her husband act is to presage the glaring head-lines +of a divorce in the not-far-distant future. If it be not now, yet it +will come, for those players who go through life with but one, even two +marriages to their credit are the great exception to the rule. The +actor's life precludes domesticity and without domestic life there can +be no successful marriages.</p> + +<p>Every community has its stage-struck girls. Year after year the +Academies of Divine Art turn out graduates like so many clothes-pins. +Neither aspirant nor parent appears to question her fitness for the +career to which she aspires. Both are ignorant of the conditions which +confront the tyro or they have a wholly erroneous idea of theatrical +life—ideas culled from the articles which appear from time to time in +the magazines over the signature of a prominent actress. The average +reader has no way of knowing that these articles are not written<a name="page_009" id="page_009"></a> by the +actress herself, but by a needy scribbler to whom she grants permission +to use her name, for the free advertising she will get in return. "My +Beginnings," "Advice to Stage-Struck Girls Who Plan to Go on the Stage," +etc., are alluring head-lines. The subject matter is a mass of +glittering and trite generalities. Of the real conditions, the pitfalls, +the drawbacks to be met, the outsider hears nothing. And when once in a +decade a scribe dares to express himself truthfully concerning the moral +atmosphere in the theatrical profession—(vide Mr. Clement Scott)—the +air is rent with expostulations, denials and protestations from the +members of "the profession." Interviews and letters pack the +enterprising press. Many of those who protest the loudest have the least +to lose.</p> + +<p>It has been said that art bears no relation to morals: as well might it +be declared that the blood bears no relation to health. Art must forever +be imbued with the spirit of its delineator.</p> + +<p>The moral status of the stage may not be a whit worse than that of half +a dozen other professions. It is possible, but hardly probable. The very +exigencies of the player's life make<a name="page_010" id="page_010"></a> for a laxity and freedom from +restraint. And in no other profession are the lives of the individual +members so intimately concerned. The popular contention that a good +woman can and will be good under any and all circumstances is a fallacy. +The influence of environment is incomputable. I believe that my little +friend Leila was fundamentally a good girl: in any other walk of life +she would have remained a good girl. I believe that fundamentally my +husband was a good man: in any other environment he would have been a +good husband. The fantastic, unreal and over-stimulated atmosphere which +the player breathes is not conducive to a sane and well-balanced life.</p> + +<p>And if, in a ruthless rending aside of the tinselled illusions which +enthrall the stage-struck girl, I have rendered a service, my own +suffering will not have been in vain.<a name="page_011" id="page_011"></a></p> + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I</h3> + +<p class="nind">I<small>T</small> was our first separation. All day I had fought back the tears while I +helped Will pack his "Taylor" trunk. Neither of us spoke; once in every +little while Will would stop in the act of folding a garment, and smile +at me in approval. Then his arm would steal around my shoulders and he +would pat me tenderly.... I would turn away, pretending to busy myself +with other things, but in reality to hide the freshet of tears his +silent expression of sympathy had undammed.... Will had signed with a +star to play Shakespearean répertoire. The question of wardrobe was a +source of worry, until I volunteered my services; I was a good +needlewoman, and, from the sketches Will made, I was able to qualify as +a full-fledged costumier. For days I had pegged away, refurbishing the +old and making new ones, and sometimes Will would lend a hand and run +the machine over the thick seams.... I once read that the women of the +Commune<a name="page_012" id="page_012"></a> wove the initials of those they hated into their knitting; +well, I sewed the seams of Will's dresses thick with love, and hope, and +ambition ... and dampened them with tears.... Then when the expressman +came for the trunk ... it seemed as if they were taking away a +coffin....</p> + +<p>Not until that night, after we had gone to bed, and I felt Will's deep, +rhythmical breathing beneath my head, which lay pressed against his +breast, only then did I give way to my grief. I crept to the other side +of the bed and turned my face to the wall—I shook with convulsive sobs.</p> + +<p>Now and then Will would half waken, and would reach out and dreamily pat +my face and smooth back my hair, as one soothes a sorrowing child. At +such times I would hold my breath, and wait until he was again quiet....</p> + +<p>Every incident of our short married life passed in review before my +burning eyes. We had closed our season late in April, and had come back +to New York with less than seventy-five dollars between us. But what we +lacked in money was more than balanced by our enthusiasm and +illusion—the illusion of two young persons very much in love with each +other. I<a name="page_013" id="page_013"></a> had been in New York only once before, and the thought of +living in the great city, of becoming an integral part of it, made me +thrill with excitement. Will and I stood on the front of the ferry-boat +and watched the panorama; he pointed out the various tall buildings with +an air of familiarity. When we passed close to a great ocean liner, +which was being swung into her dock by two fussy little tug-boats, even +Will got excited. He told me which was "fore," and "aft," and named +various other parts of the boat which I didn't understand. When we had +taken our last look, he tucked my hand under his arm and told me that +one day he and I should take a trip abroad....</p> + +<p>Owing to the shortage in our money supply, we had decided to go to a +theatrical boarding house. Will was depending on his father to send him +an allowance throughout the summer, and while it would be sufficient for +his needs, now that he was married—well, we should have a chance to +test the saying that two can live as cheaply as one. Our marriage had +been a secret one—besides the "star" and one or two members of the +company, we had taken no one into our confidence. Will's family—his +father, a sister and brother—his mother having<a name="page_014" id="page_014"></a> died about the time I +came into his life—all were intolerant of the stage and its people. +Though I was not yet a "really truly" actress, the fact that Will had +met me "in the profession" would have prejudiced them against me; added +to this was the fact that Will, himself a tyro, taking a wife at the +very threshold of his career would not be looked at through our +love-coloured glasses. The effect my marriage might have upon my own +relatives never troubled me; my father and mother belonged to that great +class of incompetent parenthood which brings children into the world +without any actual love for them. Never questioning their fitness for +child-rearing, they divine no greater responsibility than providing +bodily necessities and a more or less superficial education. When, at +the restless age of sixteen, I announced my determination to become an +actress, there was some surface opposition, but no effort was made to +enquire into my fitness for the dramatic profession, or the fitness of +the dramatic profession as a career for any innocent and unprotected +young girl. I had been highly successful as an amateur, and, as it was +not necessary that I earn my own living, the stage appeared to their +insapient minds an<a name="page_015" id="page_015"></a> interesting playground for a dilettante daughter....</p> + +<p>One week in a theatrical boarding-house was all we could endure. I +wonder why it is that the rank and file of the theatrical profession are +at such pains to impress one another with their importance. The flippant +familiarity with which they referred to "Charley" or "Dan" Frohman; the +coarse criticism of their fellow-actors, which Will called "knocking"; +their easy disregard of the conventions, especially between the sexes; a +bombastic retailing of their own exploits, as "how I jumped on and saved +the show, with only one rehearsal"; talking "shop" to the exclusion of +every other subject in the world. I overheard one of the actresses at +the next table say we were "very up-stage," which Will interpreted as +"not sociable, and having too good an opinion of one's self." Neither of +us was happy in our new surroundings, and I felt a sense of relief when +Will suggested that we look for a furnished flat. I did not mean to be +critical of my husband's profession—I endeavored to agree with him that +every profession has its undesirables.</p> + +<p>We spent days in climbing narrow stairs to look at dark, closet-like +apertures with no ventilation;<a name="page_016" id="page_016"></a> even the strength-sapping humidity of +the streets seemed fresh in comparison. At last, we found something less +undesirable than the others. The building was new, and the apartment in +the rear gave upon a row of private houses with small yards; there were +flowers and a few trees—little oases in a desert of brick and mortar. +The janitor told us there were three rooms: the bedroom was an alcove +affair, divided from the parlor by pea-green portières; the kitchen +beyond was as large as the pantry in our house at home; and the +furnishings—! The whole outfit might have been removed from a Seventh +Avenue show-window, where they advertise "Complete furnished apartment +for $49.99." The near-gold-leaf chairs were so frail that one was afraid +to sit upon them. The general atmosphere of the parlor reminded me of +the stage-settings one comes across in one-night-stand theatres. +However, the vistas of the trees and flowers decided the momentous +question. We paid a month's rent, then and there; it made a terrible +hole in our last and only fifty-dollar bill, but neither of us worried +much about it. For the next week the "show-business" was relegated to +the background. We played "house"<a name="page_017" id="page_017"></a> like two children; we arranged and +rearranged the furniture, and Will made a comfortable divan from two +packing cases. We went out to market on Ninth Avenue and Will carried +the basket on his arm. Then we tried our hand at cooking; Will carried +off the honours for coffee—and hard-boiled eggs. I washed and Will +dried the dishes—I can see him now, with an apron tied high under his +arm, declaiming Shakespeare, and juggling with the landlord's dishes.</p> + +<p>Our greatest problem was the lack of bathing facilities. We solved it by +bathing in the wash-tubs; to be sure it was a bit hazardous standing on +a sloping bottom, in danger of falling out of the kitchen window if one +leaned too much to the right, or of toppling over to the floor if +veering a bit too much to the left. But it was a bath, and, as Will +said, preferable to the communal affair in the boarding house.</p> + +<p>The summer passed all too quickly. Those were happy, happy days.... +Sometimes the money market was tight—very tight; especially when Will's +father was careless about sending Will's allowance. I cried bitterly the +first time Will went to a pawn-shop; it seemed so<a name="page_018" id="page_018"></a> humiliating to have +him do it. Will laughed, and said he regarded it as so much experience. +Several times a week we donned our best clothes and made the rounds of +the theatrical employment agencies. Will had had several offers during +the summer, but we wanted a joint engagement; we had promised each +other, when we married, that nothing should cause us to be separated. +Will and I felt that to the enforced separation of married persons—the +husband in one company, the wife in another—was due the great number of +divorces in the theatrical profession. Our "star," when apprised of our +marriage, had followed his good wishes and congratulations with a heart +to heart talk with Will.</p> + +<p>"It's all right, my boy," he said, "don't blame you a bit. She's a +charming girl, and you're in love with her. If it were any other +business but the show-business, I'd say you're a lucky dog, but—I'm +going to be frank with you—a man or a woman in the theatrical business +has no right to marry. It's all very lovely so long as you're together, +but you can't <i>be</i> together. The chances are against it—you may be +lucky enough to get a joint engagement one season, but the next season +you're off on the<a name="page_019" id="page_019"></a> road, while she's playing in New York or in another +part of the country. And what does this separation lead to in the end? +You're a human being; you crave society, companionship; gradually you +become weaned away and the inevitable happens. It's propinquity and home +ties which make marriage a success; the life of an actor precludes +domesticity. The very exigencies of his profession are not only +inconsistent with, but hostile to, the institution of marriage."</p> + +<p>When Will retailed all this to me, it sounded very big and very +dreadful—and also very vague. Any danger from separation seemed in the +far, distant future.... We agreed that a man and wife who permitted +themselves to become estranged because of temporary separations knew +nothing of real love—such love as ours, at any rate.... And now, with +the summer going on apace and no joint engagement in sight, the fear +assumed a tangible shape, the dread of separation hung over me like a +pall. Will tried to reassure me by saying it was still early, and that +we would hold out.... I believed what he said with a child-like faith. +Indeed, I am not so sure that in these days I did not worship Will with +the<a name="page_020" id="page_020"></a> same idolatry that I offered up to the Virgin Mary.... The whole +world had merged into one being—my husband. My love for my husband was +the absorbing passion of my life. Never happy in my home—my father had +married a second wife—all the pent-up tenderness and passionate love +found an outlet in my marriage. I sometimes wondered what had become of +my ambition: this, too, had centred upon him. To be sure I meant to +succeed as an actress, but I now thought of success only in the light of +an assistance to him. It was already settled between us that I should be +his leading lady, once he became a star. There should be no separations +in our life....</p> + +<p>The weeks flew by ... the summer waned. Will became less reassuring—he +took on a worried look. I began to awaken of mornings with a sickening, +intangible apprehension. After a while I stopped going to the agencies. +It seemed so futile. And then, one day, late in the summer, when the +theatres along Broadway had begun to remove the signboards from their +entrances—it came. I knew something had happened when Will opened the +door. Instead of kissing me at once, as was his habit, he passed on to +the bedroom without looking at<a name="page_021" id="page_021"></a> me, saying, "Hello, Girlie." There was +always something infinitely tender in the way he said these words, but +to-day there was a new note in his voice. It took a long time to put +away his hat and cane; then he came out and kissed me.</p> + +<p>I was peeling potatoes. He drew up a chair so that our knees met; then +he laid a hand on each shoulder and his fingers gripped me. We looked +into each other's eyes.... After a while I managed to say, "Well, dear?" +... and when he replied his voice seemed far away. I had the sense of +returning consciousness after a blow.... I suppose I was a little +dazed....</p> + +<p>"Well, dear, I've signed with ——" (he named a boy-Hamlet, well known +throughout the middle west), "the salary is good and I'll play the King +in Hamlet, Buckingham in Richard, and, if we do the Merchant, I'll be +cast for Gratiano.... The best thing about it is the possibility of +coming into New York for a run. The star wants to play Hamlet on +Broadway, and I've been told he's got good backing.... So, little +girl.... it may not be for so long after all...."</p> + +<p>Neither of us referred to the subject again<a name="page_022" id="page_022"></a> that day; neither did we +try to make believe at being cheerful. We understood each other's +silence ... and respected it. Outside the rain poured. Will stood at the +window looking out, but I am sure he did not see the rain....</p> + +<p>All these details passed before my mind like moving-pictures. When at +last I fell asleep, it was to dream the incongruous, disjointed stuff of +which the actor's dreams are made; the sense of being late for a cue, or +hearing the cue spoken, to realize that one is but half-dressed, or, +again, to rush upon the scene only to find the lines obliterated from +one's memory.... When I awoke, I heard Will in the kitchen; there was +the smell of boiling coffee. For a moment there was no consciousness of +my "douleureuse," then memory swept me like an engulfing wave. I cried +aloud; then Will took me in his strong arms and kissed my swollen eyes, +oh, so tenderly....</p> + +<p>To recall the moments preceding and following Will's departure +causes—even at this late day—a tightening around the heart. There were +some red roses in a cheap glass vase on the mantle; Will had bought them +from a street vendor that morning when he went out<a name="page_023" id="page_023"></a> for the papers. He +had pinned one in my dark hair.... After many false starts, and bidding +me, "Cheer up—it won't be for long," he closed the door after him.... +It was our first separation.<a name="page_024" id="page_024"></a></p> + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II</h3> + +<p class="nind">T<small>HE</small> red roses had withered; their crisp petals lay scattered over the +mantel and about the floor. Stooping to gather them, I was seized with a +giddiness; it dawned on me that I had not eaten for—I did not know how +long. I went into the kitchen; the table lay as we had left it that +morning at breakfast. There was his chair and the morning paper. I +didn't cry—I felt only a heaviness, a numbness. Mechanically I set +about to put the house in order; I realized that I must get myself in +hand if only to please Will. I even managed a laugh at my own stupidity +when, after neatly folding and placing my kitchen apron upon a shelf in +the dish-cupboard, I hung the sugar bowl on a peg where the apron should +have gone, and was drenched with a shower of sugar for my pains.</p> + +<p>For several days I lived on milk, which the janitor sent up on the +dumb-waiter. I could not muster sufficient courage to go out to market.<a name="page_025" id="page_025"></a> +The sunlight mocked me—I resented the happy laughter of the family +across the hall. The postman's ring, several days later, put new life +into me. I knew the letter was from Will. I caught the postman almost +before he stopped ringing, and, carrying the letter to my room, gave +myself up to devouring it.</p> + +<p>It was filled with interesting gossip about his opening, and gave +humourous little side-lights of the star and personnel of the company. +He bade me cheer up and not take our separation too seriously; he +promised to write every day, and asked that I do likewise. I marked this +precious epistle with a large "1" in blue pencil and tucked it away with +the rose-leaves. Then I sat down to write—I wrote reams. It is wondrous +the many modes of expressing "I love you." To distil those many pages, +written in the thin, slanting hand of my girlhood, would be to extract +the very essence of my life's romance—or, shall I say, tragedy.</p> + +<p>I lived for the postman's ring. Sundays were the hardest to bear; there +was no mail delivery. The weeks dragged on at snail's pace. Finally, +loneliness and isolation drove me to a state of desperation, which, in +turn, gave me the necessary courage to visit the<a name="page_026" id="page_026"></a> agencies. Will was +reluctant to have me take an engagement alone; he made me promise that I +would not take such a step without first consulting him. Indeed, had he +but known it, the thought of again travelling alone in a theatrical +company was distasteful to me; naturally sensitive and of a retiring +disposition, my first season in the dramatic profession had left some +unpleasant memories. It was difficult to accustom myself to enter an +hotel lobby alone, or, if in company with other members of the +organization, to hear our party referred to as the "troupe." The +ubiquitous drummer lounging at the hotel desk regarded us with brazen +audacity, and made audible comments. Then, to enter a dining-room +unattended, either to be corralled at a table with the other members of +the company, or, if seated elsewhere, to be further subjected to the +advances of a "travelling salesman." Again, when walking to the theatre +or to the railroad station, to see the town-folk turn curiously, +regarding the players with a condescending smile, which curled the +corners of the mouth downward as they whispered, "Show people." In +larger cities these marks of opprobrium are less pronounced, but, +nevertheless, exist. I resented this attitude towards<a name="page_027" id="page_027"></a> the theatrical +profession until I became better acquainted with it. There be those who +mistake liberty for license, and seemingly the freedom from restraint +and the lack of conventionality, which the life affords, appear to be +one of the chief attractions for adopting it.</p> + +<p>However, it was expedient that I should work. I dangled before my +willing eyes the reward of the future—that time when my husband and I +should play together. I even planned that we should be an example to +others in our devotion and high moral purpose; and so, by reducing +expense of maintaining two establishments—the flat in New York and +Will's living on the road—we should be better equipped to hold out for +a joint engagement for the following season.</p> + +<p>One morning, while waiting in the office of an agent to whom Will had +introduced me, I was drawn into conversation with an actress whose +photographs adorned the walls of the room. There was an air of +importance about her, quite distinct from that of the other women who +were waiting; these women wore an abject expression. They had relaxed +the mechanical expression of "bien être" as the weariness of waiting +wore upon them; in spite<a name="page_028" id="page_028"></a> of the make-up—more or less skilfully +applied—their faces were drawn and strained. Their clothes, too, told +of the attempt to keep up appearances. I felt a sympathy and fellowship +for these unemployed; I wondered whether they too, were, by the force of +circumstances, separated from their loved ones.</p> + +<p>Miss Burton, the lady of some importance, broke my train of thought by +precipitately asking me to "come and have a cup of tea." She assured me +she would not let me miss "old Tom"—calling the agent by the familiar +diminutive—and that having sent for her he was bound to wait. "It makes +all the difference in the world whether they send for you, or whether +you go to them for an engagement," she told me, with a sententious nod +of her head. She was so bright and vivacious, and so wholly +un-selfconscious that, for a moment, I was drawn out of my dreamy +loneliness.</p> + +<p>We went to a near-by hotel. "You take what you like," she said, +summoning the waiter. "Beer for mine!"</p> + +<p>I took tea.</p> + +<p>While we sipped our respective beverages she told me about herself. She +was a well-known comédienne—"'soubrettes' they called<a name="page_029" id="page_029"></a> them in the old +days," she volunteered. She had been with "Charley" Frohman off and on +for years, and expected to go back to him.</p> + +<p>"I've been in his bad books," she went on. "I had a good thing, and I +didn't know it. When I think how I got in wrong all on account of those +two big stiffs—!" My inability to follow her was probably expressed in +my face, for she immediately rattled on: "You see, it was like this. +When Jack and I were married we were in the same Company. He was what +they call the 'Acting Manager,' travelled on the road and represented +the New York office—understand? Well, the next year we didn't get an +engagement together; he went off on the road and I created a part in a +New York production. It was simply—hell! We used to make the most +God-forsaken jumps, just to be together over Sunday. Why, once I can +remember I rode all night in the caboose of a freight train to some +little dump of a town where Jack's Company had played on Saturday night. +Can you beat it? Oh, I tell you, I had it bad." And Miss Burton buried +her feeling and her face in the stein of beer. After a pause she +continued: "Well, the same devilish luck followed us the next season; we +couldn't<a name="page_030" id="page_030"></a> dig up an engagement together for love or money—and we +slipped a nice little roll to several of the agents, too. It just seemed +as if managers were dead set against having a man and wife in the same +company. Some of 'em acknowledge it right out loud, if you please! They +claim a man and wife in the same company make trouble; either they want +to share the same dressing-room, or the husband kicks if his wife gets +the worst of it in the dressing-room line. Or, if the husband happens to +be a manager, there's the temptation to favour his wife, and somebody +else kicks up a row. Oh, they've got excuses enough, whether they're +justifiable or not. Anyway, that's the kind of bunk you're up against +when you marry in the profession.... Where was I?... Oh Well, after two +seasons of separation, it dawned on me that Jacky wasn't so keen about +making long jumps to see wifey; pretty soon I began to hear gossip—he +was carrying some fairy's grip in the company he was with. Then I began +to watch him ... I caught him with the goods all right.... Exit, +hastily, Jacky!" and, with an expressive wave of her hands to indicate +his departure, Miss Burton called for another stein.<a name="page_031" id="page_031"></a></p> + +<p>I fear I appeared a perfect idiot in the voluble little lady's eyes. I +could not muster a comment of any description. Miss Burton, however, did +not notice my omission, for she raced on with the same energy of +expression.</p> + +<p>"That blow pretty nearly killed Mother, I can tell you. I was in love +with Jack all right.... It broke me all up to have him throw me down for +a second-rate soubrette like that. I wish you could have seen it—one of +these 'I'm so temperamental' kind of dopes. She threw him down as soon +as she'd used him for what he was worth.... I took to the booze. Whew! I +did go it hard for a while! That's what queered me with C. F.... Then, +what d'ye think I did?" Miss Burton leaned forward to better impress me +with the importance of her revelation: "I tried it a second time.... +This one was an actor: one of those handsome, shaving-soap advertisement +kind of faces—beautiful teeth, and workin' the smile overtime to show +'em!... Black curly hair, high brow, chesty—you know—the real thing in +heavy men.... Mash notes, society ladies making goo-goo eyes at him, and +forgetting to invite me to those little impromptu suppers. Ha!... don't +ask me! It was worse than<a name="page_032" id="page_032"></a> the first.... No, ma'am, matrimony and the +stage don't mix. They ought to nail over every stage door this warning: +'All ye who enter here, leave matrimony outside.' Yes, I know what you +are going to say—that there are happy marriages among stage folks, and +you'll name some of the shining examples. The domestic felicity of Mr. +Great Star and his wife makes up well in print. But, wait awhile.... +Have you finished with your tea? Let's step in the ladies' room—I'm +dying for a smoke."</p> + +<p>On our way back to the office, Miss Burton asked me about myself. When I +spoke of Will, she turned sharply and looked at me with a hurt +expression.</p> + +<p>"Why, you poor kid! Why didn't you tell me you were married? Now, don't +you let anything I said worry you a bit. Everybody is apt to draw +general conclusions from personal experiences. There's always the +exception to prove the rule. Besides...." She slipped her arm through +mine and gave me a reassuring pressure.</p> + +<p>The agent received her in his private office, and when she came out she +was in high spirits. Calling me to her, she put me on a friendly<a name="page_033" id="page_033"></a> +footing with the agent, who promised to keep me in mind. I thanked her +for her kindly interest, and went home.</p> + +<p>Desolate as the little flat was, I found strange comfort within its +protecting walls. The power of Will's personality had impregnated the +place, and I felt its soothing influence. I devoted the evening to +writing to my husband a long letter, but, strangely enough, I did not +repeat the conversation I had had with Miss Burton. That night I prayed +that he and I might be the exception to prove the rule....</p> + +<p>The next day I visited another agency. The presiding genius was a +corpulent person, with cold blue eyes which cowed at the first glance. +She stood behind the rail which divided the office from the waiting +applicants with an air of a magistrate dispensing justice not altogether +tempered with mercy. There was something insolent in the way she shut +off the opening speeches of the applicants with, "No, nothing for you +to-day; nothing doing, Mr. Blank." Then, as a highly scented and +berouged person entered, clanking the gold baubles of her chatelaine as +she swished by, the majoress-domo swung open the gate and greeted her +with,<a name="page_034" id="page_034"></a> "Come right in, dearie; I've been waiting for you." They +disappeared into the sanctum sanctorum.</p> + +<p>The little wizened lady who sat next to me snorted with impatience: +"Humph! I suppose that means another half hour!" She fell to gossiping +with a man whose very face suggested his "line of business"—that of +Irish comedian. It was impossible not to overhear their conversation. +The gorgeous creature who had been received with such open arms was a +pet of the establishment, because of her generous and regular "retaining +fees." She had been a more or less prominent society woman from Chicago; +after a sensational divorce, she turned to the stage for the proper +outlet for her superabundant "temperament." Willing to work for a salary +upon which no self-supporting woman could exist, and able to dress her +parts "handsomely," she found no difficulty in securing an engagement. +The "retaining fees" no doubt facilitated her progress.</p> + +<p>I afterwards learned from Will's experience that a cheque enclosed in a +letter of application to one of these dramatic employment agencies +stimulated their interest in the sender. And, even after an actor has +made a "hit," it is good<a name="page_035" id="page_035"></a> business to lubricate the dispenser of gifts. +I could not quite grasp the <i>modus operandi</i> until it was explained to +me by Miss Burton. "You see, when a manager contemplates engaging a +company, he sends to an agent for a list of names. Perhaps he wants a +leading man or a character actor, and he may direct the agent to +communicate with a certain actor whom he believes to be best suited to +the part he has in mind. Now this particular actor may not be in the +good books of the agent, or there may be another actor playing the same +line of business who is regular and liberal with his 'retaining fees.' +It is not difficult to understand which of the actors will be +suggested—even cried up—to the manager." Our own experience had been +to negotiate direct with the managers. But, in many cases, the managers +themselves send the actors whom they engage to a favoured agent to +complete the negotiations. In this way the agent is able to collect a +week's salary from the actor.</p> + +<p>The Irish comedian figured the average income of an agent who "placed" +several hundred actors, with salaries ranging from thirty to three +hundred dollars a week, at $5,000 a year. "And from the fish-hand they +give you<a name="page_036" id="page_036"></a> when you come lookin' for an engagement you'd think <i>we</i> were +the grafters—damned old parasites!"</p> + +<p>When, at last, the lady agent returned from her conference, I timidly +made known my wants. Perhaps I looked like a "non-retainer," as the +comedian dubbed them, for the corpulent person looked me over +suspiciously.</p> + +<p>"Had any experience?" she broke in.</p> + +<p>"One season," I responded.</p> + +<p>"Well, you might leave your address," she snapped, and directed me to an +assistant.</p> + +<p>I went back to Miss Burton's friend. Mr. Tom was an Englishman, with the +manners of a gentleman to commend him if nothing else. He greeted me +pleasantly and asked me to wait. My heart bounded in anticipation. +Presently he handed me a letter. I recognized the address upon the +envelope as that of a prominent manager. I was told to go to his office, +present the letter and return to report the outcome to the agent. I +rushed off with my mind in a whirl. Already I was outlining a telegram +to Will, telling him of my engagement. I began to plan how I should +remake my last season's dresses to avoid the expense of a new wardrobe. +Only once before had I gone direct<a name="page_037" id="page_037"></a> to a manager for an engagement. I +look back upon the incident I am about to relate with amusement at my +own expense. To anybody and everybody who is interested in the stage the +name of Charles Frohman was and still remains a kind of magic. When it +was determined that the stage was to be my avocation—I use the word +advisedly, since I had never been taught to look upon any profession in +the light of a vocation—I came direct to New York with the purpose of +calling upon Mr. Frohman, and placing my talent at his command. I +remember I dressed myself carefully. I even powdered my face heavily, to +give the ear-marks of intimate acquaintance with the make-up box. When I +entered the office in the Empire Theatre Building, the office boy was +engaged in pasting newspaper clippings in a scrap-book. A pretty, pert +girl was type-writing at the other end of the room. The office boy +looked up enquiringly. I took my courage in both hands.</p> + +<p>"Is Mr. Frohman in?" I enquired.</p> + +<p>The boy shuffled into the adjoining room. I busied myself by looking at +the photographs of the actresses which lined the walls; my heart was +pumping fiercely, but I "acted" the<a name="page_038" id="page_038"></a> part of a young lady with plenty of +<i>savoir faire</i>. The boy returned, followed by a middle-aged man who +smiled pleasantly upon me.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Frohman?" I ventured.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Frohman is not in," he responded with a bland smile.</p> + +<p>I was about to enquire when he was expected when I caught the reflection +of the office boy in a mirror on the wall. He was winking broadly to the +girl at the typewriter; I felt the blood rising to my face, and I fear I +made a somewhat confused exit.</p> + +<p>Will had many a good laugh over my credulity. I had come all the way +from an Indiana town to see Mr. Frohman, and there was about as much +chance of being admitted to his presence as the proverbial camel has of +slipping through the needle's eye. Needless to say, I never mustered +sufficient courage to call on Mr. Frohman again.</p> + +<p>To-day, however, I was forearmed. The manager to whom I had been +recommended by the agent sent out word that I was to wait. A half hour +later I was conducted to his presence. As I entered, he was seated in a +revolving chair, one foot resting on a small sliding shelf on his desk, +and a large black cigar in the corner of<a name="page_039" id="page_039"></a> his mouth. He did not rise, +but nodded to me and motioned me to the seat opposite. While he read the +agent's letter he removed his leg from the table and crossed it over the +other. He was a short, heavy man, with a preponderance of abdomen. He +had thick, loose lips, and his head was as round and as smooth as a +billiard ball; his eyes were black and snappy, and threw out as much +fire as the huge diamond he wore on his little finger.</p> + +<p>"Well," he finally said, looking at me and shifting the big cigar to the +other corner of his mouth, "that reads all right. So you're an +<i>ingénue</i>" (he pronounced it as if it were spelled <i>on-je-new</i>), "are +you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>"Well, you look the part all right.... How much experience have you +had?"</p> + +<p>"One season on the road with Mr. O'Brien's Company, but of course I've +played in amateur theatricals for...."</p> + +<p>"Voice strong?" he bellowed, tilting himself back in his chair.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, sir," I responded, using the loud pedal to prove my assertion.</p> + +<p>"Don't sound like it."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps not now, but—" I hesitated.<a name="page_040" id="page_040"></a></p> + +<p>"But what?" he queried, smiling indulgently at me.</p> + +<p>His smile gave me courage, and I answered truthfully: "Well, I think I'm +a little scared just now."</p> + +<p>"Scared? What of?" He removed his cigar while he spat out an end he had +been chewing. Then he lighted a match and continued talking. "You don't +want to be scared of <i>me</i>—I'm the easiest thing you ever saw...." Here +he winked at me. Then for the next minute he puffed at his cigar and +looked at me. "Stand up," was his next injunction.... "You're not very +big ... you'll look the part all right."</p> + +<p>"What kind of a part is it?" I ventured.</p> + +<p>"Didn't Tom tell you about it?... It's a pretty part—one of them +innocent country maidens that never saw the streets of Cairo—that kind. +She falls in love with a villain who takes her to the great city, and +then throws her down—hard. The poor girl's afraid to go back to home +and mother, and just as she's about to commit suicide a good-natured +sucker comes along and marries her. It's sympathetic and appealin'—goes +right to the heart. Can't help but make a hit. Dressin' ain't much, and +we expect to run all season in New York."<a name="page_041" id="page_041"></a></p> + +<p>"What's the salary?" meaning to appear business-like.</p> + +<p>"Twenty-five in New York, and thirty on the road."</p> + +<p>I did not reply, for my mind was making rapid calculations. Twenty-five +dollars a week, with the prospect of running all season in New York! +Why, I should be able to pay my own expenses and lay aside a little +besides.</p> + +<p>"That's a good salary," began the manager, taking my silence for +dissent. "If you make a hit, I'll raise it five. I tell you what I'll +do: I'll give you a letter to the stage manager. They're rehearsing now. +The dame we engaged for the part, way last summer, got married on the +quiet, and has got to retire for family reasons." He winked at me again, +as he took up his pen. I waited uneasily while he wrote. "Here's the +letter," he said, moistening the flap of the envelope with his lips. +"Now, run along and see Mr. Thompson at the Academy. He's the doctor." +He rose by way of dismissal, and indicated a door other than which I had +entered. I thanked him and assured him my voice was quite strong.</p> + +<p>"You're a pretty little thing," he said as he<a name="page_042" id="page_042"></a> accompanied me to the +door. "Pretty little figure ... what d'ye weigh?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know really how much, but I think about one hundred and ten +pounds," I answered with some confusion.</p> + +<p>"As much as that? Where do you carry it all?" He ran his fat, stubby +hands over my shoulders and down about my hips. His smile became a leer. +Before I could realize what was happening he had taken me in his arms, +and his heavy, wet lips were pressed against my mouth. His hands played +over my body, and, though I struggled to cry out and to release myself, +I was unable to do either. It seemed as if my senses were deserting me; +then, the muffled bell of the telephone sounded, and he released me.</p> + +<p>"Damn that bell," he said. Nauseated with disgust and fright, I cowered +in the corner; he tried to draw my hands from my face, laughing as he +whispered: "Like it, like it, do you?" Then with another oath at the +continued call from the telephone, he crossed to his desk. "Run along +now," he directed, without a look....</p> + +<p>I never knew how I found my way down the stairs to the street. I did not +wait for the<a name="page_043" id="page_043"></a> elevator. I saw that people looked at me as I hurried +along the street—whither I did not ask myself. Only when I collided +with someone on the stairs did I realize that I had gone straight to the +agent's office.</p> + +<p>"Hello, little lady!" I recognized Miss Burton's voice. "My, we're in a +hurry! For God's sake, child, what's happened to you? What's the matter? +You look as if you were going to throw a fit! Here—let's go to a drug +store."</p> + +<p>After a dose of sal volatile, Miss Burton called a hansom and insisted +on taking me home. I did not want her to accompany me. I wanted to be +alone. When we were safely in the house I lost all control. She let me +have my cry out without asking a question. Then, when I was calmer, I +told her what had happened.</p> + +<p>"The old blackguard! The old blackguard! I've heard that about him +before. Why didn't you hand him one? Why didn't you smack his face?"</p> + +<p>"I'll leave that to my husband," I replied with tearful dignity.</p> + +<p>Miss Burton contemplated me between violent puffs of her cigarette. Then +<a name="page_044" id="page_044"></a>she shook her head. "Um-um, girlie; no, sir ... you mustn't tell your +husband."</p> + +<p>"Why not?" I demanded.</p> + +<p>"Well, if you tell your husband, and he's the man I think he is, he'll +go straight up and knock the old beast down. That will get him in bad; +this manager is a power and controls a dozen attractions, as well as +theatres. Your young man may find it difficult to get an engagement in +the future."</p> + +<p>Miss Burton paused to allow the idea to percolate into my brain.</p> + +<p>"Then there's another side to it. If you tell your husband and he does +not go up and knock the fresh gentleman down, you'll despise him for it +... oh, yes you will! You would not acknowledge it even to yourself, +but, way down deep in the bottom of your heart, you would never forgive +your husband for not resenting the insult to you.... Better not tell him +at all...."</p> + +<p>We both were silent for some time. I was struggling with a thousand +conflicting emotions.</p> + +<p>"You see, girlie, you've got an awful lot to learn. You're new to the +game. That's the reason these things go so hard with you."<a name="page_045" id="page_045"></a></p> + +<p>"Do you mean that 'these things' are a part—a regular part—of the +business?" I began, with a burst of resentment. "I don't believe it! I +can't believe it! I'm sure my experience was exceptional. I know that +girls who typewrite for a living, clerks and even housemaids have +unpleasant experiences, for I have read about it in the papers. There +are bad men in all walks of life. I travelled nearly a whole season +before I was married, and—"</p> + +<p>I stopped short. My mind visualized a situation. When I joined the +company in which I met my husband I was singled out for marked attention +by the star. I believed this attention to be a kindly interest in a +novice. It never occurred to me to question the intent and purpose. I +was the understudy for the leading woman; the star had told me that I +had exceptional talent, and with the proper direction I should develop +into a splendid emotional actress. Quite often we would have private +rehearsals—sometimes in the theatre, but more often in the star's +apartment in the hotel. Invariably we rehearsed alone. I was flattered +and sincerely appreciative of the star's efforts to develop my talent; +we played scenes from Romeo and Juliet, and my star played<a name="page_046" id="page_046"></a> Romeo with +such fervour that I quite forgot my lines. When the star's wife joined +the company the rehearsals were suspended; it seemed quite natural to me +that the star wished to devote his time to his wife. She was still a +beautiful woman, though her face was sad and bore a discontented +expression. She kept aloof from the Company, and it was said that she +did not approve of stage-folk, especially the women. I wondered why she +had married an actor. Later, when Will and I became friends, he +questioned me about these private rehearsals; then I began to notice +that he managed to drop in for a call on the star when we rehearsed at +the hotel, or he would wait about the stage when we were in the theatre. +This happened frequently as our courtship progressed. I recalled how, +one day when Will was discovered in the wings, that the star called out +to him quite irritably, "You were not called for rehearsal, were you, +Mr. Hartley? You're not needed, and your presence makes Miss Gray +self-conscious."</p> + +<p>Shortly after that Will insisted upon announcing our betrothal to the +star. I never went to rehearsals unattended after that, and the calls +became less frequent. Soon they were<a name="page_047" id="page_047"></a> abandoned altogether. Now, for the +first time, I understood Will's watchfulness—perhaps I understood why +the star's wife had so sad a face....</p> + +<p>"And what?" Miss Burton repeated after me.</p> + +<p>"I was thinking, that was all."</p> + +<p>"Girlie, you'll never get on in the show business, unless ... look here, +I'm going to open your eyes to a few things that may come handy to +you.... I've been on the stage since I was a kiddie; I was born in it. I +made my first appearance in my mother's arms, and they say I never +waited for cues, but yelled right through other people's lines. I grew +up in railroad trains, hotels and theatres. I was wise to the game +before I was out of short skirts. Anything I did was done with my eyes +wide open. I was never stage-struck, like you, and so many fool girls +who look on acting as a 'divine art.' I had to make my own living, and +the stage offers a pretty good living if you are willing to play the +game." Miss Burton looked at me significantly.</p> + +<p>"Play the game?" I asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes, that's just what I mean.... Virtue and chastity have about as much +chance in the<a name="page_048" id="page_048"></a> show-business as that famous little snowball of +purgatorial fame. I don't know of any other profession where immorality +is a virtue. I suppose that's what you call a paradox. Virtue and +success do not go hand in hand in this business—even our mothers +recognize the truth of the statement and wink at it. Your average stage +mamma values virtue in the ratio of the advancement its possession +assures. Let any star or manager cast covetous eyes upon her daughter, +let her but scent leading lady—or stardom—and she will not only lend +herself to intrigue but encourage it. She knows the game; she knows that +a girl, no matter how pretty, how talented, cannot get on in the +show-business without 'giving up.' She's got to have money or influence, +or both. I don't know what there is about the stage that brings out the +baser passions, but I do know that it's rotten to the core. And the +worst of it is, that the good is sacrificed to the bad. Girls like you +are drawn to the stage by its illusion and romance. With others, it's +the looseness, the freedom from restraint that appeals. There never was +a woman with a screw loose in her moral machinery who didn't hanker for +the stage. Why? Because it's a<a name="page_049" id="page_049"></a> convenient place to show goods. Every +millionaire, every fur-tongued man about town looks upon the women of +the stage as his legitimate prey. You've only got to mention the fact +that you are, directly or indirectly, connected with the show-business, +to lay yourself open to the advances of the male creature who thinks he +is sporty. You may be as chaste as ice and as pure as snow, but the +chances are against it, if you are on the stage."</p> + +<p>I felt choked with indignation. "I don't believe you, I don't believe +it's true," I stormed. "Look at such women as—" (I named a number of +prominent women stars). "They are honoured and respected——"</p> + +<p>"You mean their accomplishment, their art is honoured. Each and every +one of these women has been grist to the mill. Do you suppose that side +of it ever reaches the public? No, and what's more, it's none of the +public's business. These women are successful. The price they have paid +is their own secret. Don't misunderstand me—I'm not sitting in judgment +on the women of the stage, any more than I would sit in judgment on you +if you went wrong. I'm telling you the conditions that exist—conditions +which every woman who<a name="page_050" id="page_050"></a> enters the theatrical profession has got to face +sooner or later. You had your first experience to-day...."</p> + +<p>It had grown quite dark in the room. Miss Burton got up and moved about +in the twilight. I almost hated her. I could not prevent myself from +saying, "Do you think it is nice to befoul your own nest?"</p> + +<p>She answered me gently: "You don't understand my motive, girlie. I +wouldn't say these things to an outsider for anything in the world. Why, +if a thing like this were to be given to the public, the whole +theatrical profession would rush into print to deny it. There would be +an awful noise, but <i>each and every one of them knows it's the truth</i>, +<i>God's truth</i>, <i>and nothing but the truth</i>." We were again silent. Miss +Burton sighed heavily.</p> + +<p>"You know, girlie, if I were an artist I should like to paint my +conception of the 'divine art.' The divine art is a soulless procuress; +she takes your youth, your beauty and your virtue. She saps you dry, +and, at the first signs of age, she turns you out."</p> + +<p>Miss Burton stopped in front of the large<a name="page_051" id="page_051"></a> photograph of Will which +adorned the mantel. After a lengthy scrutiny, she said:</p> + +<p>"Fine head! Looks as if he would have made a good lawyer."</p> + +<p>"He was educated for the law," I answered proudly.</p> + +<p>Miss Burton looked out of the window with a far-away look. Then she came +to me and took both my hands in hers.</p> + +<p>"Little girl, why don't you persuade him to give up the stage and go +back to the law?"</p> + +<p>"Because he does not like the law, and because he has a great career as +an actor ahead of him," I retorted, feeling myself on the verge of +tears.</p> + +<p>After Miss Burton had donned her hat and gloves, and stood with her hand +on the door-knob, she spoke again:</p> + +<p>"I'll see Tom to-morrow, and have him set you right with that old +beast."</p> + +<p>"Set <i>me</i> right!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, for not showing up at the Academy. I'll say you got in a trolley +jam, and when you arrived there they had gone. You can show up bright +and early to-morrow—don't you intend to take the engagement?"</p> + +<p>"Not if I never got another engagement in<a name="page_052" id="page_052"></a> my life!" I declared, with a +wave of disgust passing over me.</p> + +<p>Miss Burton drew me into her arms and kissed me impulsively: "Stick to +that, girlie, and God bless you!" and she rushed off....</p> + +<p>I didn't sleep much that night. Early the next morning came a telegram +from Will, saying he expected to be home on Sunday. His Company was to +"lay off" and rehearse two weeks, preparatory to "the assault" on +Broadway, as he expressed it. The knowledge that I should soon feel his +arms around me acted like a tonic. My resentment against Miss Burton +gave way to pity. Why were not all husbands and wives as much in love +with each other as were Will and I?<a name="page_053" id="page_053"></a></p> + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III</h3> + +<p class="nind">T<small>HE</small> boy Hamlet failed to attract the public. After two weeks on Broadway +the notice went up. The Company was to reorganize, which, in this +instance, meant reducing expenses—and "back to the woods." Will agreed +to double the King with the Ghost for a small rise of salary and the +condition that I be added to the roster. In return for my railroad fares +I played one of the strolling players and the Player-Queen. The Company +made one night stands only; we made early and long jumps to +out-of-the-way towns, which Will declared were not on the map. The +hotels were often so bad that we were driven to patronizing the village +grocer, and to supplement our meals with chafing-dish messes. Through +rain, snow and slush we plodded our way to the railroad stations; +sometimes there was a hack and the women rode back and forth. The +theatres were cold and the dressing-rooms filthy. The stage entrance +invariably gave upon a foul-smelling<a name="page_054" id="page_054"></a> alley, and a penetrating draught +swept the stage when the curtain was up. Once, after Will in the +character of the King had been killed by Hamlet and lay dead upon the +stage, he sneezed explosively. The audience appeared to enjoy the +situation. But, in spite of the physical discomforts and the stultifying +grind, we were happy—we were together.</p> + +<p>By the end of the season we had saved almost three hundred dollars. Then +Will played a few weeks with a summer stock company—a "summer snap," as +it is termed—and in the autumn we were able to make a stand for the +much-desired joint engagement.</p> + +<p>When the Company gathered at the railroad station bound for a city of +the middle West, it more resembled a family party than a theatrical +organization. The manager himself played a part, and his wife was the +lady villain. The comédienne and the stage carpenter were man and wife, +and the leading lady—a girl not much older than I—was chaperoned by +her mother. Will was the leading man and I the ingénue. There was the +prospect of a pleasant season ahead. I smiled a little contemptuously +when I thought of Miss Burton's terrible arraignment of the stage. She +had<a name="page_055" id="page_055"></a> been unfortunate in her association, that was all, I told myself.</p> + +<p>The comédienne and I shared dressing-rooms. She was a beautiful woman +with a strain of Latin blood. I loved her from the first moment I met +her. I was disappointed in her husband; her superior breeding and +education caused me to wonder at her choice. Later, when I better +understood the needs of the woman, I grew to like him; he was +clean-minded and sincere—virtues I later discovered to be rare ones +among actors.</p> + +<p>It was about the second week of the season when our family party first +showed signs of incompatibility. There had been some gossip connecting +the leading lady's name with that of the manager, but as she was +protected by her mother it appeared to me ridiculous and unwarranted. +One night, as the curtain fell on the first act, the manager's wife +ordered the leading lady's mother out of the wings. Immediately there +followed a war of high-pitched voices which penetrated the walls of our +aerial dressing-room. The curtain was held and the orchestra played its +third overture.</p> + +<p>During the wait Margherita, my dressing-room<a name="page_056" id="page_056"></a> mate, told me the +circumstances of the case. The leading lady's mother was the "friend" of +the "angel" of the Company; in this capacity she assumed privileges +which were galling to the manager's wife. Adding to this the fact that +her husband was too obviously interested in the leading lady, the +outbreak was not to be wondered at. The manager himself was one of those +round, flabby men, suggestive of a fat, spineless worm. Physique is +often coindicant of character.</p> + +<p>This night the mother had been more obnoxious than usual. It was her +habit to stand in the wings while the manager's wife was on the scene, +and by petty distractions to goad the actress to expression.</p> + +<p>Gradually members of the Company were drawn into the dissension; it was +an intolerable situation. Our sympathies were with the manager's wife, +but we diplomatically held aloof. Matters finally reached a climax. One +night during the performance there was a stage wait. In vain Will and +the heavy man filled in the hiatus. The manager's wife had surprised the +leading lady in the arms of her husband somewhere behind the scenes, and +thereupon slapped the girl's face. A moment later<a name="page_057" id="page_057"></a> she came upon the +stage to play her "big" scene; she was labouring under great emotion, +and I thought she had never acted so well. In a speech to me (I played +her daughter)—it was part of the stage business that I take her hand in +mine; I am not sure that I did not press her hand in silent sympathy. +She drew me towards her; in another moment the lady villain was sobbing +in my arms, and there was an emotional storm not indicated in the +manuscript of the author. I led her up stage as the house fairly rose to +her splendid acting. When the storms of applause had died away we went +on with the scene as if nothing had happened.</p> + +<p>I wonder why it is that women invariably punish their own sex and exempt +the man? Do they instinctively demand a higher code of honour from their +kind while meekly acquiescent to the conventional license for men?</p> + +<p>Subsequently the "angel" joined the Company, and, to all appearances, an +adjustment was reached. For a time peace was restored. The leading lady +assumed an air of injured innocence, and left off rouging her cheeks to +heighten the effect. Then, suddenly—or gradually, I never realized how +it came about—it became obvious to all that the leading lady<a name="page_058" id="page_058"></a> was +"making a play" for Will. Her attentions became so marked that the men +of the Company chaffed him about it, declaring the manager would +presently challenge him to mortal combat, or—and what was more +likely—discharge him from the Company. Will accepted their allusions in +good part, but I observed the subject was distasteful to him. To me he +called the woman "a little fool," and was irritated with being placed in +so ridiculous a position. Indeed I think Will suffered as much as I did. +Without being rude or boorish, there was nothing he could do to check +her advances. She was planning her <i>début</i> as a star the following +season, and made Will a proposition to become her leading man; she +consulted him concerning the new plays which were being submitted to +her, and planned for the current season special matinées of classic +plays with which Will was familiar. She called him to preliminary +rehearsal and discussions in her rooms at the hotel; sometimes, between +the acts of the performance, called him to her dressing-room, where she +received him in a state of <i>négligé</i>. New bits of stage business were +introduced, or the old elaborated; she would run her fingers through +his<a name="page_059" id="page_059"></a> hair, or prolong the kisses which the rôle demanded; or, in his +embrace, she would draw her body close to his and writhe about him to a +point of indecency. In countless, intangible ways she brought her +blandishments to bear upon him. Will declared she was playing him +against the manager, whose relations with her had become strained since +his wife had interfered. In all things she was aided and abetted by her +mother, who fawned on Will and made his position the more equivocal. My +own emotions were confused; it was inconceivable that I should be +jealous of the woman. No, the sensation she aroused was nothing more +than disgust. To be jealous of my husband connoted a lack of faith, and +he had done nothing to betray my trust in him.</p> + +<p>Jealousy had always appeared to me a debasing and an undignified +emotion.... I resented the position in which my husband was placed; I +would not add to his discomfiture by hectoring. I had promised myself +when I married that never should I be jealous when I saw my husband +making stage-love to another woman—perhaps in the back of my mind was +the hope that I should always be the other woman, his leading lady. +Nevertheless,<a name="page_060" id="page_060"></a> I was determined to stand the test without flinching. It +was high time that I began to realize that the conditions which +confronted me were but a part of the game—the <i>game</i>! The word was +reminiscent of Miss Burton. I fought down the suggestion blindly, +passionately.... I began to dread going to the theatre; often, while I +was making up, I found Margherita's eyes fastened wistfully upon +me—they told how she longed to comfort me. Unhappily I could not talk +about the thing which was troubling me. What was there to say? There are +emotions which never find tangible expression. Then the idea of asking +my husband to resign from the Company suggested itself. I endeavoured to +look at the question from a material standpoint: it would not be easy to +find another engagement in mid-season, besides, there were the expensive +railroad fares back to New York—we were then touring California—and +probably another separation....</p> + +<p>Perhaps it was the strain of hard travel, or it may have been the +certainty of my condition which I had heretofore only suspected, or a +combination of both, which made me lose my self-control. I had always +believed<a name="page_061" id="page_061"></a> strongly in the influence of suggestion upon the unborn child, +and the unclean atmosphere in which I was living preyed upon my mind +until it became an obsession. I grew to hate the woman and her +witch-like mother. We had had some racking railroad jumps, and the loss +of sleep was telling on every member of the Company; the leading lady +was stimulating on champagne. Her mother stood in the wings, bottle and +glass in hand, and applied the restorative whenever the girl came off +the stage. One night, under the influence of the wine, she became more +brazen in her advances to Will; she took liberties which made even her +mother, watching in the wings, gasp with amusement. Something she said +<i>sotto voce</i> to her mother reached my ears. I began to watch her. As the +act progressed she elaborated the detail with ever-increasing audacity, +and, when the action required her to throw herself in Will's arms, she +flung me a look of laughing defiance, coincident with a broad wink to +her mother—old Hecate of the wings—then fed upon his lips like a +vampire sucking blood.</p> + +<p>I am not sure that I responded to the cue which some seconds later +brought her into my arms. (We were fellow Nihilists under arrest.<a name="page_062" id="page_062"></a>) The +contact of her hand against mine ... Will told me afterwards he would +never have believed me possessed of such physical strength. I choked +her.... I drove my nails into her flesh.... I dragged her to the wings +and beat her with my fists.... I vented upon her the long pent-up +fury.... Oh, the shame, the ignominy of it! I, who resented a vicious +influence upon my unborn child—I, its mother, had descended to the +level of a fishwife!... It was Margherita who brought me back to +consciousness; it was she who restored to me a modicum of my +self-respect. I believe she was secretly pleased at what I had done.</p> + +<p>That night, as she sat beside my bed, she told me something of herself. +As a young girl she possessed a wonderful singing voice. Her +parents—poor Italians—who came to America when she was a babe in arms, +could not afford proper masters. She went on the stage to support +herself, hoping to earn enough to pay for her musical education. Her +beauty attracted a patron "of the arts"; at least, that is the way he +was referred to in the newspapers. But it was not Margherita's art that +he cared about—it was the woman. He considered<a name="page_063" id="page_063"></a> his money a fair +exchange for her body; Margherita was not willing to pay the price. She +struggled on, and one day, after several years of hazardous existence, +she found herself stranded in a far Western city without money, without +friends. In a state of despondency she had walked to the outskirts of +the town, and there in a lonely wood she sat down to fight out a choice +between life and death. In a moment of emotion she burst forth into +song; her troubled soul found solace in Gounod's <i>Ave Maria</i>. At the end +her voice broke, and she sobbed. A hand was laid on her shoulder. It was +a big hand, strong and sinewy. The man that went with it was big—"big +all the way through," Margherita said proudly. They were married not +long after; ever since he had remained at her side, helping to fight for +a clean career ... making her life's work his.... Dear Margherita! I can +see you now, with your glorious black eyes, your coronet of raven hair +with the poppies over your pretty ear.... Oh, the pity of it! Weakened +by the hardships and privation her life entailed, she died a few years +later....</p> + +<p>When Will came into the room that night, he held a paper in his hand. It +was our resignation.<a name="page_064" id="page_064"></a> His eyes twinkled with humour when he told +Margherita that he was taking the bull by the horns, and sparing us the +ignominy of dismissal. I was glad to see he was not angry with me. Then +Margherita whispered something into his ear. He came to the bed and took +me in his arms, and what he said concerns only a man and wife.... +Margherita stole away, but before she went she kissed us both, and there +were tears in her eyes.</p> + +<p>On the way back to New York, Will and I sat hand in hand looking out at +the monotonous stretch of desert-land. "I'm glad to have it over—I'm +glad that's out of our life," he reiterated, pressing my hand. "It was +rotten!" Suddenly he burst out laughing. He continued long and +sonorously. "Do you know, girlie," he said, "do you know that with a +little more fullness of figure and a pair of two-inch heels, you'd make +a grand Lady Macbeth? Phew!" and he laughed again.<a name="page_065" id="page_065"></a></p> + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV</h3> + +<p class="nind">T<small>HE</small> question of bearing children had given me many a bad hour. My +husband felt that the coming of a child, at the outset of his career, +would be a burden and a handicap; once he was established and could +afford to maintain a home, it would be time enough, he declared. He felt +that, at best, children born and reared in the theatrical profession +were the victims of unnatural conditions. It was not practicable to +carry a young child about the country, and, if left behind, to the care +of either relatives or hired attendants, the child was robbed of its +natural protection. Obviously I must make up my mind to separate from +one or the other—my child or my husband—until the little one was old +enough to travel.</p> + +<p>Here arose another knotty problem. Children are little human sponges; +they absorb the atmosphere of their environment. A stage-child is no +more immune to the vicious influences<a name="page_066" id="page_066"></a> about it than to a scarlet-fever +germ. Should I then be willing to expose my child to dangers of more +far-reaching consequences than physical ailments, and at a time of life +when character is formed? My husband and I discussed these problems at +length, and finally concluded that, since the inevitable had happened, +the wisest course was to make the best of it. How many children, I +wonder, are conceived in the same spirit? How many births the result of +accident? How few planned with the wish to bestow the best of one's +flesh and spirit upon the little stranger? Can the influence of +unwelcome conception upon the child itself ever be computed? May not +criminal tendencies and moral delinquencies be traced to such a source? +If, at the beginning, I were guilty of misdirected sentiment, I set +myself to right the wrong as the weeks grew into months. I no longer +chafed at separation; I lived in a kind of spiritual exaltation. My +plans and dreams of the future were now transferred to the coming of my +child.</p> + +<p>Will was so fortunate as to secure another engagement almost +immediately. His success led to the opportunity he most desired, and in<a name="page_067" id="page_067"></a> +the early autumn he played his first engagement as leading man of a New +York production. The Company opened out of town; in theatrical parlance +this is what they call "trying it on the dog."</p> + +<p>Our boy was born during Will's absence. It must have been very hard for +Will to have the nervous strain of a first night's performance and the +worry of my illness at the same time. I had gone to the hospital alone. +Will had made the arrangements before he left town. He said he would +feel better if he knew I was in skilled hands and not at the mercies of +a lodginghouse-keeper. It seemed cruel to be alone at such a time. I +cried a little when the big, cheery nurse held my boy for me to kiss.... +I wanted Will's arms around me as I had never longed for them before—or +after.... The little chap had black hair like Will's, and his forehead +bulged in the same way. I had always admired Will's forehead....</p> + +<p>Baby was six weeks old when his father first saw him. I laughed when he +held the boy in his arms—he appeared so awkward. After a successful New +York opening, the play settled down for a run. We moved from our +furnished room to an apartment. Will found it<a name="page_068" id="page_068"></a> difficult to sleep with a +crying baby in the same room. With the coming of the child, and the +"front" Will's new position demanded, it was hard to make both ends +meet; for a long time I did the housework except the washing, but when +my health began to fail Will made me hire a servant.</p> + +<p>Will was very fond of our little boy. Even as a small baby, the child +showed his preference for his father; he would stop crying the moment he +heard Will's voice. Indeed, I believe that when temptation lured him in +her most attractive form it was the child who held him close to me.</p> + +<p>Temptation there was plenty; his success had been unqualified. The +critics hailed him as a young man with a great future. His pictures +began to appear in the magazines and in the pictorial supplements of the +Sunday papers. He joined an actors' club, where he dined on matinée +days. Will's family developed a pride in him, hitherto carefully +suppressed. They had shown decided disapproval of our marriage when it +became expedient to announce it to them. My introduction to the family, +during the week our late-lamented Company had played Will's home city, +was strained and unsatisfactory.<a name="page_069" id="page_069"></a> Now, however, the sight of the family +name in print gave unalloyed joy to Will's father, who collected +newspaper clippings for Will's scrap-book with more zeal than did Will +himself. Will said this sudden interest reminded him of a story he had +heard at the club. It ran like this:</p> + +<p>A handsome young Irishman of humble parentage had long yearned for the +footlights. Unable longer to restrain himself, he confided his ambitions +to his mother. Now, the old lady was an ardent church-goer, and looked +upon the stage as a quick chute to perdition.</p> + +<p>"Jimmie, Jimmie, me boy! To think you'd want to be an actor! To think +you'd want to bring shame on your old mother, this disgrace on your dead +father's good name!"</p> + +<p>The old lady rocked herself to and fro in her grief. In vain Jimmie +endeavoured to soothe her. Finally the idea occurred to him.</p> + +<p>"But, mither, mither, darlin'," he caressed, "I'll not bring disgrace on +your name—you know actors always change their names when they go on the +stage, and no one will ever know who I am."<a name="page_070" id="page_070"></a></p> + +<p>The old lady stopped her moaning and was silent for a moment.</p> + +<p>"But, Jimmie," she protested, "Jimmie, supposin' you became a gr-r-e-at +mon, supposin' you became a great lion, with your pictures in all the +papers—and adornin' the fences ... then, Jimmie, how'll they know +you're me son?" ...</p> + +<p>It was at a matinée that I first saw Will in his new part. It was the +first time since our marriage that I had not heard his lines or helped +him with his costumes. He had told me all about the play, and I knew the +cue for his first entrance almost as well as he himself. My heart +thumped so hard and fast I feared my neighbour would guess who I was. +His entrance was greeted with a burst of gloved applause, accompanied +with such exclamations as, "There he is!" "Isn't he a love!" ... "Just +wait until you see how he can make love!" I confess I hardly knew +whether to be proud, or indignant. The familiarity with which they +discussed him grated on me; I resented the proprietary tone. Then I +smiled at my silliness, for I realized that this very interest made for +popularity, the most valuable of the actor's assets. I listened to the +gush of the matinée<a name="page_071" id="page_071"></a> girls, and their discussion of the private lives of +theatrical people with a good deal of amusement.</p> + +<p>Coming out of the theatre, I heard one woman ask another whether Will +was married. I wondered what difference that would make in his +popularity.</p> + +<p>After the matinée I went back to Will's dressing-room. Will had planned +what he called a little junket. We were to dine together at a +restaurant—a pleasure we could not often afford. While Will washed up I +told him the nice things I had overheard. I predicted he would become a +veritable matinée idol—a term which he scorned. There were some letters +lying on his make-up table. I picked them up idly; Will followed my +action.</p> + +<p>"Read them," he said. "You'll be amused. They are my first mash-notes." +There was so much roguishness in his smile that I laughed back at him. +Some of the letters were innocent enough, written in girlish hand, with +requests for autographs and autographed photographs. One or two asked +Will's advice about going on the stage, and there was one from a +tooth-powder firm, wanting the right to use Will's picture in which his +teeth showed. There<a name="page_072" id="page_072"></a> was one—a violet-scented note on fine linen, +written in the large loose vertical scrawl so much affected by smart +women—without signature. It ran as follows:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"If you will pardon this somewhat unconventional method of making +your acquaintance, my dear Mr. Hartley, I shall be most happy to +have you join me at tea, after the matinée, at Sherry's (other +drinkables not excluded). I was present at the opening night of +your play, and was quite carried away by your splendid acting. +Where <i>did</i> you learn to make love? I have occupied the right hand +proscenium box every Saturday matinée since the opening. Isn't that +a proof of my devotion? Do I flatter myself that I have caught your +eye once or twice as the curtain falls? I invariably dress in black +and wear gardenias. If you are interested, you will have no +difficulty in identifying me. For family reasons I withhold my name +for the present. Do come, Mr. Hartley."</p></div> + +<p>As I folded the letter and replaced it in its cover, I recalled that +Will <i>had</i> glanced towards the right hand proscenium box several times.</p> + +<p>"I think I'll put you on a car and send you home," began Will, but +something in his voice belied his words, and I made him an impudent +<i>moué</i>. "How do you like being married to a<a name="page_073" id="page_073"></a> matinée idol?" Will asked, +giving the final touch to his dress.</p> + +<p>I did not reply; I was asking myself the same question.<a name="page_074" id="page_074"></a></p> + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V</h3> + +<p class="nind">W<small>ILL</small> made friends easily. Perhaps it were better to use the word +"acquaintances." At any rate it was not long until he received more +invitations than he could accept. He was called on to give his services +for charitable purposes, but I noticed these hostesses never received +him in their homes. It must be said that Will rarely accepted an +invitation which did not include me, though I often realized I was +invited as a necessary evil. After supper the guests invariably played +poker, and I knew nothing about cards. The late hours sapped my +strength, and my boy always wakened early in the morning. Sometimes the +suppers were held at a well-known restaurant, like Rector's or Martin's. +I had not the proper clothes for such occasions; it was imperative that +Will dressed well, and I did not want it said that his wife was shabby. +The other women wore wonderful gowns and much jewellery.</p> + +<p>After a winter's round of these parties, I was<a name="page_075" id="page_075"></a> able to distinguish one +particular set from another. There is a smart set, a fast set and a +loose set which, though none of them can be said to be strictly "in +society," form a kind of brass-band appendage or fringe to it and differ +one from the other only in their gradations—or degradations—of moral +laxness. It is the loose set to which the actor is drawn, or inclines. +One finds in this particular stratum the artist, the journalist, the +divorcée and semi-detached woman whose name is legion. The lady who +maintains a handsome apartment and entertains lavishly is probably a +"kept" woman with an ambiguous past. Occasionally one finds a multiple +divorcée with money, playing at patroness to some impecunious +song-writer or handsome actor with more brawn than brain. But the "kept" +lady predominates. She is ubiquitous. She dresses à la mode, she is an +habituée of the smart restaurants, an inveterate first-nighter. Her +"particular friend" may be a married man of the "my +wife-don't-understand-me" brand, or he may be one of the "get-rich-quick +floaters" who joyride across the financial horizon into oblivion. It is +to this set the stall-fed woman of the leisure class turns to whet her +jaded appetite. And a hostess'<a name="page_076" id="page_076"></a> Sunday AT HOME is highly suggestive of +the "obit" of a Town Topics. Individually and collectively they are +rotten. Mistaking the sex-heat aroused and stimulated by cocktails and +other alcoholic beverages for real love and passion, they wallow in the +erotic mire to their heart's content. Nobody criticizes; nobody cares; +the faster the pace the greater the joy.</p> + +<p>It was upon this subject that my husband and I encountered our first +real rift. He had commented rather flippantly on the moral tone of a +recent supper party. We fell to discussing the players' status in +society. I had observed that with one or two notable exceptions the +actor is not received by "our best people." To be sure there are a few +cities outside of New York where quite respectable families, bored by +the drab routine of conventional society, entertain the actor as a kind +of <i>sauce piquante</i> to their monotonous lives. But this is the exception +and not the rule. Wholly misinterpreting my motive, Will defended his +profession with a blind prejudice. After that he did not ask me to +accompany him to the various functions. It became quite a common thing +for him to telephone me from the Club that he<a name="page_077" id="page_077"></a> would not be home until +late that night. I was sorry that I had expressed myself so plainly to +Will; if only I could make him understand that I wanted him to be true +to the best that was in him.... It hurt me to hear him speak lightly of +the women with whom he associated, and still continue to go among them.</p> + +<p>Miss Burton was now a frequent visitor at our home. She adored the boy +and never failed to bring him a present when she came. She took upon +herself to lecture me for not going out with Will, declaring I was +spoiling him, and that I would make him selfish. I thought over what she +said, and resolved that I would go with Will when next he asked me. Also +I began to formulate a little circle of my own. There was a sculptor to +whom I was particularly attracted. He was a Western product, and was +preparing to go abroad to study. I had always had a fondness for +sculpture, and during my enforced retirement I amused myself at moulding +with clay. A baby's hand I had made attracted his attention one day he +had called on Will. He advised me to continue my efforts. Miss Burton +sent me a wonderful outfit and I took up my work of sculpturing in +earnest. My sculptor friend<a name="page_078" id="page_078"></a> brought other friends with him, and it +became a regular thing for me to receive my friends on Sunday afternoon. +I saw that Will enjoyed my little parties, though they were simple and I +made no pretensions.</p> + +<p>One day—it was at Christmas time—Miss Burton sent me a beautiful gown; +with the package came a characteristic note: she begged me to accept the +gown and not to feel hurt, that she was dead broke and could not afford +to make me a "decent" Christmas present. The gown, she said, had been +spoiled by the dressmaker, who had made it much too tight, and it would +make her happy if I would accept it with her love....</p> + +<p>It was so pretty—all creamy white and fluffy, and there were little +pink flowers scattered over the net. I put it on ... and, as I looked at +myself in the mirror, I felt quite pleased with the reflection. White +was always becoming to me.... I did not tell Will about my present, but +the next time he casually mentioned an invitation to dinner I accepted +with an alacrity which surprised him.</p> + +<p>When Sunday came, I dressed with the excitement of a conspirator, and +when Will called me to help him with his tie I walked<a name="page_079" id="page_079"></a> into his room +with an air of unconcern worthy of a star. Will was delighted with my +appearance.</p> + +<p>When we entered the house of our hostess I no longer felt the desire to +hide myself; instead, I felt quite mistress of myself. It's wonderful +what a difference clothes will make in one's feelings. Miss Burton told +me once that, whenever she was down on her luck and felt depressed, she +forthwith went on a sartorial debauch. She bought everything in sight. +Her new clothes re-established her self-respect, and somehow, some way, +a good engagement came along and helped her to pay for her prodigality.</p> + +<p>We were a little late in arriving, and when I came down from the +bedroom, where I had left my wrap, the second round of cocktails was +being passed. Will was standing at the foot of the stairs talking with +his hostess. A large nude figure carrying softly shaded lights decorated +the newel-post, and screened me from view of the woman who was talking +to Will.</p> + +<p>"You handsome dog!" I heard her say. "What have you been doing to Alice? +She's gone clean off her head—threatens to leave her husband, and is +drinking like a fish!"<a name="page_080" id="page_080"></a></p> + +<p>"I haven't done anything," Will began, but at that moment our hostess +saw me and nudged Will, who joined me and we entered the drawing-room.</p> + +<p>I felt Will's questioning eyes on my face, but I did not look at him; +instead, I gave my hand rather impulsively to my sculptor friend who was +standing alone, and I did not notice the returning pressure until my +wedding ring cut into the flesh, and made me wince. I was wondering who +"Alice" could be and what Will had to do with her. Our hostess's +"friend" was present. He was a middle-aged man with a ruddy complexion, +iron gray hair and a closely cropped moustache. I had once seen him at +the Horse Show in one of the boxes, and he had been pointed out to me as +a prominent railroad man. He greeted Will noisily.</p> + +<p>"Hello, Hartley," he yelled, "you're late on your cue. I suppose you +wanted to make an effective entrance!"</p> + +<p>At the table I sat next to the sculptor; on my other hand was a dentist +who had leaped into fame by having been expelled from a certain European +country where he had set up a successful practice. A <i>liaison</i> with the +wife of a man close to the throne had led to his downfall,<a name="page_081" id="page_081"></a> and he had +returned to his native land to be received with open arms by the set in +which we were now travelling. He had a face such as I imagined Molière +conceived for his Tartuffe; his voice was caressing and made me sleepy. +Opposite me sat a well-known star. He was famous for his magnetism. +Although I could not discern it, there must have existed something of +the sort, for every leading woman who engaged with him, sooner or later, +succumbed to his charm. I myself knew of one girl whose life was almost +ruined when he took up with another woman who had joined his Company to +play a special engagement. This girl was one of the prettiest I ever +saw; she was "chaperoned" by a complaisant mother. This irresistible +gentleman was married, but his wife refused to live with him and made +her home abroad. For the sake of the children she refused to divorce +him.</p> + +<p>A comic opera singer sat beside the hostess. The dentist, assuming that +I knew the situation, asked me, <i>sotto voce</i>, how long I thought it +would be before "papa took a tumble to himself." When I confessed my +inability to follow him, he proceeded to enlighten me. The hostess was +infatuated with the singer, who was<a name="page_082" id="page_082"></a> as poor as Job's turkey, and while +her protector was absent—(he was married and had several grown +children)—the lady consoled herself with song. This easy, +matter-of-fact way in which these topics were discussed, the utter lack +of restraint between the sexes, no longer shocked me. I was on the point +of asking my purveyor of illicit news whether he could tell me who Alice +was; instead, I turned to the bored man at my right, and by degrees I +got him to tell me of his ambitions, his work and his ideas of life. I +found we had much in common.</p> + +<p>While we were talking, there was a noisy argument going on at the other +end of the table.</p> + +<p>"I wouldn't stand it for one minute!" rang out the voice of our hostess, +and I saw her shoot a meaning glance at the singer.</p> + +<p>"Ask an actor's wife! Ask Mrs. Hartley!" bellowed the host. "Mrs. +Hartley?"</p> + +<p>"Yes?" I responded, not knowing the subject of conversation.</p> + +<p>"Pardon me for interrupting so interesting a conversation, won't you, +Calhoun," he said, addressing my sculptor friend with exaggerated +courtesy. "I'll give her back to you in a minute....<a name="page_083" id="page_083"></a> Mrs. Hartley, the +ladies want to know how it feels to watch your husband make love to +another woman?"</p> + +<p>I caught Will's eye. At another time I should have been embarrassed. +To-night, however, I felt a strange self-control.</p> + +<p>"Oh dear, what an old chestnut!" I answered flippantly. "I believe +that's the nine hundred and ninety-ninth time I've answered that +question this season." I noticed that my voice took on a bored tone.</p> + +<p>"Well, tell us!" urged mine host.</p> + +<p>"To tell the truth," I began, "I never give it a thought."</p> + +<p>Will's eyes twinkled; he was seated at the far end of the table between +two stall-feds.</p> + +<p>"It's a part of the business," I continued, "just as dictating to his +typewriter is a part of the routine of a business man. Does every wife +suspect her husband's stenographer?"</p> + +<p>"Yes! yes!" came the chorus from the curvilinear gentlemen at the other +end of the table.</p> + +<p>I shrugged my shoulders. "Very well, then, it seems to me, since you +gentlemen won't behave, that it is up to the women to see that you do!" +I sat down. I felt ashamed of my vulgarity.<a name="page_084" id="page_084"></a> Our host suggested a toast +and scrambled to his feet. "Here's to our wives and sweethearts—may +they never meet!"</p> + +<p>There was more laughter. The dentist murmured something about moss-grown +jokes, and the hostess asked why husbands and lovers were excluded. I +felt my mouth drawing down at the corners, and I buried my lips in the +American Beauty rose the sculptor had purloined from the centre-piece.</p> + +<p>It was probably the frequent replenishing of the wine glasses which led +the doctor-dentist to level all his batteries of fascination upon me. He +moved nearer and closer, until even the hostess noticed his efforts; she +thought it funny. Finally, he slipped his hand beneath the table and let +it rest upon my knee. I arose and asked the sculptor to exchange seats +with me. I think he understood, for as I passed him he said to me in a +low, intense tone, "Is that beast annoying you?" I did not answer. In my +confusion I upset a glass of wine, and the wine-agent across the table +told me he was sorry I didn't like his wine.</p> + +<p>As the dinner progressed some spicy stories were exchanged. The time we +lingered at the table seemed interminable. Mr. Calhoun told<a name="page_085" id="page_085"></a> me I should +take a drink of brandy, for I was growing quite pale. He could not, of +course, realize that at that moment I had suddenly noticed that Will's +companion was dressed all in black and wore gardenias. A moment later +the hostess had called her "Alice." ... She leered at Will with +wine-shot eyes, her breath coming in quick, short gasps, and I noticed +that his right and her left hand were under the table....</p> + +<p>As we left the table I had asked Mr. Calhoun what time it was. When he +told me it was after eleven I ran quickly up the stairs to the room +where I had seen a telephone. It was my habit to awaken my boy at +half-after nine every night to give him nourishment. He was put to bed +at five o'clock, and the period between that and morning was too long to +go without food. I wanted to ask my maid whether she had remembered my +instructions. The telephone was in a kind of closet off the hostess's +bedroom; beyond the bedroom was her boudoir, reached by a door from the +corridor. I had finished with my message, and was about to go +downstairs, where the singing had begun, when I heard someone enter the +boudoir beyond. I stopped and drew back,<a name="page_086" id="page_086"></a> why, I do not know. A moment +later there were footsteps on the stairs, and Will entered the room. He +came quickly and began speaking at once.</p> + +<p>"My dear Alice," he said, "this thing can't go on. You are making a fool +of me and of yourself. The first thing you know your husband will get on +to it and there will be the devil to pay!"</p> + +<p>"That's right! Make it harder for me," the woman answered. "Why do you +always bring my husband into the conversation? You know how it is +between us. We haven't lived as man and wife for years. He's never +understood me and I can't go on with him any longer. I won't—that's +all!"</p> + +<p>There was a pause before Will spoke again.</p> + +<p>"Come on, don't go on like that; everybody will know what's happened. +You'll spoil your eyes."</p> + +<p>Another pause. I think these silences were the hardest to bear....</p> + +<p>"You had no right to let it go this far if you didn't care," the woman +went on resentfully.</p> + +<p>"This far? How do you mean? There has been nothing that you need be +ashamed of<a name="page_087" id="page_087"></a>—nothing that you couldn't tell your husband if it came +right down to it," answered Will.</p> + +<p>The woman laughed angrily. "Is that so? I suppose you count a few motor +rides and a few suppers on the side nothing. I suppose you wouldn't mind +telling your wife that you had held me in your arms and kissed my eyes +and my hair...."</p> + +<p>"Good Heavens! neither of us meant anything wrong! We were just carried +away for a few minutes—you're a fascinating devil—and the wine helped +some.... Now, don't do that, don't do any of that foolish business with +me...."</p> + +<p>What was she doing, I wondered? Did she intend to kill him or kill +herself? I almost started to Will's rescue, then—she laughed.</p> + +<p>"Powder your nose and let's go down. Somebody will notice our absence."</p> + +<p>Evidently she obeyed, for there was another pause.</p> + +<p>"You needn't worry about your wife," she said. "The giant from the West +is keeping her busy. Better keep your eye on him."</p> + +<p>Will did not reply. My eardrums seemed on the point of bursting from the +surging of the blood to my head.<a name="page_088" id="page_088"></a></p> + +<p>They came out into the corridor. At the head of the steps she stopped.</p> + +<p>"I suppose it amuses you to make women love you," she said.</p> + +<p>"My dear woman, you don't love me; I don't flatter myself to that +extent."</p> + +<p>She laughed sneeringly.</p> + +<p>Would they never go?</p> + +<p>"Kiss me good-night and good-bye," she half whispered.</p> + +<p>"This is the last one," he answered, "the last, remember."</p> + +<p>There was a stifled cry as she clung to him, and I saw Will release +himself and run down the steps. A few minutes later she followed. I +found my way down the servants' stairs and entered the dining-room from +the butler's pantry. When Will came to look for me I was drinking brandy +frappée with the wine merchant.... That night I slept on a couch beside +my boy's crib.<a name="page_089" id="page_089"></a></p> + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI</h3> + +<p class="nind">A<small>FTER</small> that memorable dinner party things were never quite the same +between Will and me. I am sure, however, that Will was unconscious of +the fact. He went about as usual. At this juncture Boy came down with +scarlet-fever. The enforced quarantine acted as a bar to any intimacy +between my husband and me. I welcomed the isolation. My feelings had not +yet recovered from the bruise I had received. How many times I had +re-lived the scene to which I had been an unwilling eavesdropper! I +blamed myself for not at once having made my presence known. I excused +myself on the ground that to have done so would have placed Will in a +ridiculous and embarrassing situation. For some inexplicable reason the +idea of embarrassing my husband was repugnant to me. My resentment was +concentrated against the woman. I felt sure she was to blame. I invented +all kinds of excuses for Will and at the same time I recognized<a name="page_090" id="page_090"></a> that +they were pure inventions. I could not bring myself to kiss my +husband—at least, not for a long, long time. His arms no longer +connoted a haven. How utterly wretched I was—how lonely and +heart-hungry! Only a fierce struggle with my self-respect kept me from +throwing myself into my husband's arms and crying out my hurt against +his breast.</p> + +<p>After Boy had recovered, Will one day remarked that I was looking tired. +He said I was stopping indoors too closely—would I not accompany him to +a little ... I tingled all over my body. I dared not trust myself to +look at him. Instead I forced a smile and shook my head in negation.</p> + +<p>"I reckon you don't like the bunch," he quizzed.</p> + +<p>"I fear I'm not even a little bit of a sport," I answered.</p> + +<p>He looked at me out of the corner of his eye. The glance was +characteristic of Will. Often I had seen this same expression when some +one had recognized him on the street or in a restaurant. It was a +curious blend of boyish self-consciousness and exaggerated unconcern.</p> + +<p>With the coming of summer began the annual<a name="page_091" id="page_091"></a> hunt for an engagement. A +walk along that part of Broadway known as the Rialto during the early +months of the heated term leaves the impression that there has been a +lock-out of the whole theatrical profession. Actors block the corners +and hem the sidewalks. The supply far exceeds the demand. Year after +year they make the weary rounds of the agencies. Season follows season +with but a few weeks' employment for many of them. One wonders that the +impermanency of his profession does not drive the actor to other +vocations—perhaps "trades" were the better word, since the rank and +file are better adapted to plumbing than to acting. The microbe which +infects the actor is as deadly in its effect as the Tsi-tsi fly. It +produces an exaggerated ego from which the victim never recovers. The +only palliative is the lime-light. Retirement from the stage is never +permanent. Farewell tours of prominent players, like the brook, go on +forever. It is the spirit of make-believe with which the actor is +saturated which leads him to make a front even to his confrères. "Signed +for next season?" one overhears, edging one's way through the crowd.</p> + +<p>"No, not yet—I've had several good offers,<a name="page_092" id="page_092"></a> but not just what I want. +I'm in no hurry," and he twirls his cane with a nonchalant air, though +he may not have the price of next week's board-bill. And so it goes, ad +infinitum. His is the kingdom of bluff.</p> + +<p>Will was one of the fortunates. After several weeks of haggling over +salary, he was engaged by "America's foremost producer." The actor of +established position—"established" being a mere figure of speech, since +at best the actor's position is an aleatory one—those of prominence +usually demand to read the play before signing a contract. In this +instance Will waived this privilege. Absolute secrecy was maintained as +to the character of the play. The reason for this lay in the fact that +the manager was at war with the Theatrical Syndicate. His grievances he +had made known to the public. As a lone, solitary Saint George of <i>art</i>, +fighting the monster dragon, <i>commercialism</i>, he made a "play" for the +public's sympathy—and won it.</p> + +<p>The momentous question of employment disposed of, we started for our +summer holiday. It was Will's first idea to go to a village on Nantucket +Island. Here a group of more or less successful actor-folk had +established a summer<a name="page_093" id="page_093"></a> colony. Some of them owned comfortable bungalows +or were in the throes of buying them. After maturer deliberation Will +concluded he wanted a change of "atmosphere." In other words he wanted +to get away from "shop." A residential park in the Catskills was finally +decided upon. The cottagers were for the most part staid Brooklyn +families and Will felt in this environment he was reasonably sure of +privacy. The delusion was a short-lived one. As we left the train and +made our way to the 'bus which was to convey us to the Park I heard a +whisper and titter from a bevy of pretty girls who had come to the +railway station to watch the new arrivals. "There's Mr. Blank, the +actor!" and Will understood that he was "discovered." Some of the girls +climbed into the 'bus, others followed on foot. All giggled and made +significant remarks. At the Inn it was immediately noised about that an +actor was in "our midst." We became the cynosure of all eyes. Curious +maiden ladies looked us over—at a respectful distance. Our most +insignificant movements were under observation. Now, it is one thing to +be stared at on the stage; quite another to have the minutest detail of +one's private life under constant<a name="page_094" id="page_094"></a> surveillance. Will, who had planned +to live the simple life, which he had construed for himself as going +unshaved for days at a time, wearing baggy trousers and flannel shirts +all day and dining in that garb if it so pleased him, now found himself +donning white ducks (the salvage of a former season's wardrobe), playing +tennis, bridge, or lounging about the piazza answering endless inane +questions concerning the stage and its people. If we went for a walk we +were soon overtaken; if we planned a quiet day in the woods there was +arranged an impromptu picnic-party to accompany us. To be sure the +attention thrust upon us was of kindly intent, though Will declared the +pleasure was theirs and more or less selfishly bestowed. An actor and +his family at close range is a novelty apparently as much coveted as a +man at a seaside after the week-end hejira back to town.</p> + +<p>One week of the cuisine at the Inn drove Will to dyspepsia tablets. +Instead of fresh vegetables, home-grown fowl and the other concomitants +of the country-board illusions, we were served with such delicacies as +creamed cod-fish, canned salmon and johnny cake. I came to the +conclusion that the housekeeping<a name="page_095" id="page_095"></a> and servant problems had driven the +Brooklynites to a state of submission where even the fare provided by +the Inn was better than Bridget's dictation.</p> + +<p>The rooms of the caravansary were veritable cockle-shells. The +partitions were so thin that we carried on all conversation in subdued +whispers. We wished that other guests would emulate our example, alas +and alack! Up with the lark and early morning sunbursts were not in +Will's curriculum. He said he did not object to a sunrise if he could +sit up all night with convivial friends to await it. And, when a man is +in the habit of lying abed till noon, it is difficult to change his +régime. He soon developed nerves. One morning, after futile attempts to +sleep, Will dragged himself into his clothes and disappeared. When +finally he returned he had the roguish face of a boy who had been +stealing little red apples. He had found a farm-house and after some +"dickering" on both sides he had rented house, farm and all for the +remainder of the season.</p> + +<p>"Just think, girlie," he enthused, "what a circus it will be! There's a +garden with all kinds of vegetables, there's a cow, bushels of<a name="page_096" id="page_096"></a> +chickens, an old nag, a dog, to say nothing of the pigs and ——"</p> + +<p>"Who," I gasped, "who is going to care for this menagerie?"</p> + +<p>"We are—you and me. Besides I need the exercise. I want to take off a +few pounds of this embonpoint or I'll lose my 'figger.' Of course +there's a hired man who'll come in to do the milking and the heavy work, +and his sister will cook and 'tidy up' for us. It'll be great!" He +stopped long enough to throw out his chest, inhale deeply and to exhale +noisily while he pounded his lungs—a little trick he had of expressing +a sense of well-being. "Fresh vegetables, fresh eggs and the cow—think +what the cow will do for the kiddie! You never saw me work, did +you?—man with the hoe business, I mean. I used to love that kind of +thing when I went home to visit the old folks in the summer. Come along, +girlie, let's get things together. The coach and four will be here +soon."</p> + +<p>He swung Boy over his shoulder and carried him pick-a-back to our room. +While we packed he told me the details of his "find." The farm belonged +to an old man and his wife, whose children—three sons—had yielded to<a name="page_097" id="page_097"></a> +the call of the city. Bit by bit the lonely old couple had sold the +land, not being able to work it themselves and unsuccessful in their +attempts to induce the children to return to their heritage. For a long +time they had "hankered" to visit the boys in Brooklyn, but money was +scarce and the little farm with the live stock could not be left uncared +for. The old man had advertised the homestead for rent, furnished. "The +few who came to see had one excuse or another for not wanting it," the +old man had told Will. "Most of 'em wanted a bath and runnin' water and +they shied at the oil lamps."</p> + +<p>"They evidently wanted the simple life with all modern appliances," Will +continued. "After talking it over with Ma whilst I waited on the porch +drinking buttermilk, Pa returned and asked if I meant business. I +assured him I did and proved it by offering to pay the summer's rent in +advance."</p> + +<p>I caught my breath. Mental arithmetic failed me. Will had told me before +leaving New York that we were "playing pretty close to the cushion," and +I knew what that meant. If Will noticed my perturbation he evinced no +sign, but went on in the same enthusiastic vein.<a name="page_098" id="page_098"></a> "Pa and Ma talked it +over again, 'If Ma ain't lost her taste for visiting Brooklyn,'—Ma +hadn't, but she wanted a week to get ready. Pa said he could pack all he +wanted in a paper bag. I said I must have the place at once or not at +all—and—here we are." I was not surprised at our sudden change of +base. Will always acted on the impulse of the moment.</p> + +<p>When Will went down to pay our hotel bill it was lunch-time. Nearly all +the cottagers in the Park had assembled. Much regret was expressed at +our desertion of the Inn. (I quite understood that "our" was a mere form +of courtesy, inasmuch as I was looked upon as only an appendage hitched +to a star.) Will laid our desertion to the Boy. "He needs a cow," he +explained blandly to a group of admirers. "A child of his age needs one +brand of milk. One can't be too careful in hot weather, you know," and +Will's whole bearing portrayed paternal solicitude. The farm wagon +arrived opportunely. Will winked at me. He had told me that he was +"side-stepping" the lunch of dried lima beans and creamed cod-fish. "I +wanted to do it gracefully, of course. They are all nice people and it's +good business. That's the kind of thing<a name="page_099" id="page_099"></a> that gives an actor his +following; just the same I'm glad to get away and relax. This being +always on parade—! They simply won't concede an actor any privacy. They +won't let you be natural. They expect you to act 'on' and 'off.'"</p> + +<p>It was a long and bumpy drive to the farm. We could have walked it in a +third of the time by cutting 'cross country. The poor old horse driven +by Aaih, the farm hand, looked moth-eaten and worn. It hurt my +conscience to add to his burden, so Will and I climbed down and walked +the rest of the way. Will, carrying Boy first on his shoulder and then +on his back, reminded me of pictures I had seen of early settlers making +their way through the wilds in search of a home. Once in every little +while Will would burst forth in a lusty halloa which made the welkin +ring. "Halloa" came back from the echoing hills. Even Boy saluted the +great god Pan. There was an exhilaration in the air which made one glad +to be alive.</p> + +<p>It was a noisy trio which swung into the lane leading to the farm house. +Ma was on the front porch awaiting us. She made a quaint picture in her +rusty black alpaca with her gingham apron half turned back under her +arm. At<a name="page_100" id="page_100"></a> her neck there was an old daguerreotype set in a +brooch—probably a likeness of a child she had lost. The lack-lustre +eyes were kindly, almost pensively so, and the red spots in her cheeks +indicated the excitement under which she laboured. While we sprawled on +the porch she bustled about for buttermilk. Boy had taken a shine to +Aaih, and refused to leave him for the "one brand of milk," the virtues +of which Will had expounded to the lady cottagers. Pa called out a +friendly greeting from the kitchen where he was "poking up the fire" in +response to orders from his wife. The odour of cooking things whetted +our already keen appetites. "I had Pa kill a chicken at the last +minute," the dear old lady explained, "for everybody who comes to the +country hankers for fried chicken." I shot a glance at Will. Will was "a +nice feeder" and I devoutly hoped his epicurean tastes would not balk at +a freshly-killed fowl. It would be a sin not to appreciate the old +lady's kindliness. Mentally I resolved to eat every helping if it killed +me.</p> + +<p>I fear there was poor picking for Aaih after we left the table. I helped +Ma with the dishes and after they were cleared away she<a name="page_101" id="page_101"></a> showed me the +run of the house. Later we joined the men folks out of doors and made a +tour of the farm. There was something pathetic in the way they asked us +to take good care of Snyder, whose mixed breed reminded one of the much +advertised pickles. Old Ben, we were told, was not fast but he was +trust-worthy even in the face of automobiles. Good laying hens were +pointed out, but I could never remember one from the other. We made the +acquaintance of Bossy and were warned that the other cow with a calf was +not so friendly. We talked so long that at the last moment Ma got +flustered. She came very near forgetting the home-made jelly she was +taking to her niece at Kingston where they were to stay the night, going +on to New York on the morrow. When at last they drove away to take the +train, we followed the buggy to the end of the lane, then watched them +out of sight with much waving of hands and repeated good-byes. The sun +was dropping behind the peaks. Across the valley spiral coils of smoke +showed gray against the blue-green hills. How calm, how serene it was! +Neither spoke. Will was leaning against the snake-rail fence, +thoughtfully ruminating. Presently he fell to whistling<a name="page_102" id="page_102"></a> softly. I +smiled. "Give my regards to Broadway, remember me to Herald Square" was +ludicrously out of joint with our surroundings. Will divined my thoughts +and smiled quizzically at me over his shoulder. "It's a long way from +Broadway, eh, girlie?"</p> + +<p>"Not nearly long enough!" I responded. And I was right. If, upon leaving +the Inn we had deluded ourselves with the idea of retiring from the +public eye, we soon discovered our mistake. Our retreat was unearthed; +our privacy intruded upon. At inopportune moments passers-by would +appear ostensibly to inquire their way, obviously to get a glimpse of +the actor "at play." It came to be an annoyance, especially after Will +was caught in the act of clearing out a duck pond or helping Aaih to +whitewash a chicken-house. When Will indulged in manual labour he +relieved himself of all superfluous clothing. When a hero does this sort +of thing on the stage he manages somehow to look pretty. But a matinée +idol with streaks of whitewash laid across his sweating brow, sundry +snaggs in disreputable trousers, a handkerchief around his neck with +utter disregard of artistic effect, is a treat reserved for the bosom of +his immediate family<a name="page_103" id="page_103"></a> only. So, after repeated offences, whilom visitors +were warned off by the threatening admonition—in more or less uneven +lettering—</p> + +<p class="c">"PRIVATE PROPERTY—NO ADMITTANCE."</p> + +<p>Experience Dorset was Aaih's sister. She might have been his twin, so +alike were they. The only apparent difference was that plainness in a +man becomes homeliness in a woman. In so far as we were able to +discover, Experience belied her name. True, she made delicious bread and +crullers, and one never felt her apple dumplings after forty-eight +hours, but, other than these, Experience's experience was as drab as her +complexion. She was slow of speech—and exhaustive. Her invariable "Now, +ma'am, what'll I fly at next?" was contradictory to her deliberation. +Nothing ruffled her. In a temperamental family this asset is not to be +despised. To Experience Will was an enigma. She confided to me, soon +after allying herself with our household, that she was never sure when +Will was making believe and when he was himself. She felt certain he +must sometimes mix himself up. It was her way of explaining a dual +personality.</p> + +<p>Will liked to play golf. Several times a<a name="page_104" id="page_104"></a> week we tramped across the +hills to the Club, some two miles distant. We never left the links +without several girls in our train. It was impossible to shake them off. +Sometimes they accompanied us to the house and sat on the porch to rest. +Later they discovered that afternoon tea was an institution with me. I +am sure that Experience enjoyed these little tea-parties as much as did +the girls. Punctually at four o'clock she would appear on the porch, +neatly dressed. With scissors in hand she raided the flower-beds for +lady-slippers and clove-geranium with which to adorn the table. The +stone jar in which she kept the cookies was never empty. And when the +girls came trooping up the lane she was the first to hear them and to +rouse Will from his siesta.</p> + +<p>Will said he felt like a bull in a china shop at these informal teas. I +thought he was charming and agreeable though he pretended he was bored. +After tea we would wander out of doors. Nearly all the girls took +snap-shots of Will. He tried to find a new pose for each of them. "The +man with the hoe" showed Will among the cabbages, resting on the handle +of the hoe. "Under the old apple tree" was effective even if the apple +tree was an oak.<a name="page_105" id="page_105"></a> Reclining on a mound of hay, carted for the purpose by +the faithful Aaih, was labelled "In the good old summer time." "The +actor at play" showed Will with a golf-stick in his hand. Later Will +autographed the pictures.</p> + +<p>Many were the questions we were called upon to answer concerning the +stage as a career. We were asked to verify all sorts of silly gossip +about players. It was well-nigh impossible to convince them that all +male stars were not in love with their leading ladies and vice versa. It +goes without saying that I should not escape the inevitable question, +"How did I feel when I saw my husband making love to another woman?" It +amused me to watch the little subterfuges to which the girls resorted to +win my favour. Bon-bons were the bribes most in vogue. One day I +overheard a newcomer to our circle tell another girl, "You didn't tell +me he was married—and a baby, too. How terribly unromantic! I'll never +go to see him act again as long as I live."</p> + +<p>Will and I laughed over the situation, albeit there is a considerable +ground for the managerial contention that actors and actresses should +not marry, or, if married, the fact<a name="page_106" id="page_106"></a> should be suppressed rather than +advertised. Indeed, who likes to think of her Romeo as dawdling a +colicky baby during the wee sma' hours about the time he should be +exclaiming with unfettered fervour, "What light from yonder window +breaks? It is the east, and Juliet is the sun!" I recall a tragedy of my +own romantic youth upon discovering that a favourite actor was not only +a father, but that he wore—O, horrible, most horrible—a toupee!</p> + +<p>There was no escaping the amateur theatricals. I predicted it early in +the summer. The proceeds of the entertainment were to be applied toward +the discharging of the debt of the Golf Club. Will was asked to take +entire charge of the programme. His position was no sinecure.</p> + +<p>It was their first intention to give "As You Like It" in the open, but +as every young woman thought herself particularly adapted to the +requirements of Rosalind, Will found himself in a delicate position. The +young men of the community themselves cut the Gordian knot. They aspired +to be comedians. Vaudeville was finally decided upon. A quartette of +college students blacked up and gave a minstrel<a name="page_107" id="page_107"></a> show. Some of the jokes +were local and aimed at the idiosyncrasies of the cottagers. Others were +purloined from Jo Miller's joke-book. There was a trombone solo by the +village farrier, several vocal duets and a selection from the Mikado. +Will contributed several monologues. But the star feature of the evening +was the performance of Dolly in a scene from the Wizard of Oz. She was a +dainty creature with Dresden china beauty and bovine eyes and had been +much admired by the male contingent of the colony. Everybody felt sure +there was a treat in store for them. There was. When Dolly entered, +leading the amiable Bossy, a gasp reverberated through the erstwhile +bowling alley. Dolly's short skirt revealed nether extremities which +would have done great credit to Barnum's fat lady or a baby grand piano!</p> + +<p>Our vacation passed all too quickly. The day approached when we needs +must bid good-bye to our retreat.... The memory of the old farm-house +lingers still. The chill in the air at nightfall; the warmth of the +log-fire; the sense of comfort and content; the green paste-board shade +on the lamp; the rag rug on the floor. In my mind's eye I see the old +couple<a name="page_108" id="page_108"></a> sitting here of winter nights; Ma, piecing together the +vari-coloured rags for the summer weaving; Pa, nodding over last week's +news; Snyder stretched out in front of the fire, whimpering in his +dreams. How far removed from the feverish walk of our life, with its +hopes, its struggles, its heart-burns, and its empty fame! Yet, they, as +we, were "merely players."<a name="page_109" id="page_109"></a></p> + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII</h3> + +<p class="nind">R<small>EHEARSALS</small> for the new play began in August. The days were wilting but +the theatrical world up and doing. Every available stage, hall and loft +was requisitioned. Several companies shared the same stage, dividing the +hours between them. Will's manager had his own theatre and the +rehearsals were all-day affairs. Will studied his part at night after +"the family" had retired. Sometimes I would lie awake and listen to him, +talking aloud, reading a line first with one inflection and then trying +another. Will's voice was one of his greatest assets.</p> + +<p>Experience had come back to town with us. Before leaving the mountains, +Will had jestingly asked her whether she would like to see Broadway. She +took him at his word. We flattered ourselves she had become fond of us. +We discovered later that it was the profession, not the family, which +lured her. She had found a new volume of faery lore. Will was<a name="page_110" id="page_110"></a> the faery +prince. Sometimes I wondered just how Experience reconciled Will's +morning grumpiness with her preconceived notion of a hero. I recall how +after seeing Will in a new rôle he had asked her how she liked him. She +expressed herself as pleased with the play in general and with him in +particular. But after he left the room she confided to me the following: +"Ain't he the naturalest thing when he yells at that man with the +powdered hair, Jackwees or somethin' like that—'Jackwees, bring me my +sword!' I declare, ma'am, I jumped a foot and started for that sword! It +was so natural; that's just the way he yells when I forget the morning +papers."</p> + +<p>The reliability of Experience brought me more leisure. I was free to go +about without worry over the boy. I felt that intellectually I needed +stimulus and I planned a winter's work. Of course everything depended +upon the play "getting over," to use the vernacular. Will said he did +not see how it could fail. Everyone connected with the production said +the same thing. Success was in the air. Several times I had dropped in +to see a rehearsal. I was interested to know the "method" of this +particular manager about whom so much had<a name="page_111" id="page_111"></a> been written. His productions +were always effectively mounted. Magazine articles, full-page interviews +had from time to time printed his recipes for evolving successful stars +as well as money-making plays. One thrilling account in +particular—supposedly his own words—told of the strenuous training of +the tyro; how he aroused in his actors the precise degree of emotion +necessary to a given scene. "I dragged her by the hair!" or "I pictured +her own mother lying dead, foully murdered, before her until she cried +aloud at the picture I had conjured." Again, "I tied my wrists together, +I rolled about the floor, struggling to free myself; I wanted to feel +just what a man would feel under similar conditions!" These and other +highly coloured statements had from time to time been served up to the +public. It is amazing how gullibly the public bites at the press-agent's +worm. In nearly all such instances nothing could be farther from the +truth. My own observation convinced me that the man's genius lay in his +ability to select the right person for the right place. Having made the +selection he played upon the <i>amour propre</i> of his puppets. He led them +to believe he had supreme confidence in their ability.<a name="page_112" id="page_112"></a> The ruse was +successful. It is the better part of human nature to want to measure up +to the good opinion of others.</p> + +<p>His methods of conducting a rehearsal were the simplest. He had infinite +patience and perseverance. He left nothing to chance. A scene or an +effect was repeated until the "mechanics" became automatic. His voice +never rose above a conversational tone. He knew that to command others +he must first be in command of himself. He left the roaring to petty +understrappers with inflated ideas of their own importance. Once in a +blue moon he let go. The effect was electrifying. I strongly suspected, +however, that there was more or less "acting" in these outbursts. Just +as his reluctant appearance before the curtain on first nights was a +"carefully prepared bit of impromptu acting." The frightened expression +of his face; the quick, nervous walk; the almost inaudible voice when he +thanked his audience, "on behalf of the star, the author (or co-author), +the musicians, the costumers, the scenic artists" and so on down the +line; this with his mannerism of tugging at a picturesque forelock, this +alone was worth the price of admission. First and last he was a good +showman.<a name="page_113" id="page_113"></a> The star who was the stepping stone to his fame and fortune +was a lady with a past. She had entered the stage door through the +advertising medium of the divorce court. After several unsuccessful +attempts at starring she placed herself under the tuition of the +manager, then allied with a school of acting. Possessed of abundant +animal vitality—"magnetism," if you prefer—as well as "temperament," +the ugly duckling developed into a star of first magnitude. When Will +joined the company she was at the height of her success—a success which +later dulled the finer artistic restraint and listed toward a fall. But +act she could, playing upon each reed, each stop of the emotional organ, +with a conviction of which few actresses are capable. In the choice of +plays the genius of the man again displayed itself; the right play for +the right person. Doubtless, he understood that temperament, after all, +is but the flood-tide of our natural predilections.</p> + +<p>To the layman a rehearsal is a bewildering and murky affair. Seated in +the "front of the house," in the clammy shadow of shrouded seats, a +student of human nature finds much to interest him. Under the light of a +single "bunch" or the "blanching" irregular foots, the<a name="page_114" id="page_114"></a> players look old +and insignificant. The blue white light has a cruel way of exposing the +lines and seams. They sit about or stand in groups, the blue-covered +typewritten parts in hand awaiting the call of the first act. A youngish +man, probably the assistant stage-manager, sets the stage; that is, he +marks the entrances and the boundaries with plain wooden chairs and +stage-braces. The homely wooden chair plays many parts; now it stands +for a fire-place or a grand piano, again it may be a rocky pass beyond +which are the mountains.</p> + +<p>A fagged looking man enters the stage door with a hurried, important +air. By the bundle of manuscript under his arm shall you know him. It is +the stage-manager. He greets the members of the company with a curt, +preoccupied air and hurries down to the prompt stand. There are +consultations with the working staff and perhaps with one or two of the +players. While he is thus engaged let us enquire into the personnel of +the company; that tall good-looker in the well tailored gown is a +newcomer to the stage. She has been given a small part—a half dozen +lines at best. On twenty dollars a week she carries a maid—and a jewel<a name="page_115" id="page_115"></a> +case. No, she does not <i>have</i> to work for a living; neither is she the +spoilt child of a multi-millionaire. She belongs to that great class of +women who have no class. Time hangs heavily on her hands. It looks +better to be connected with some kind of a profession; a legitimate +profession. Besides, her vanity makes her "want to do something." The +stage has always appealed to her. With a little "influence" she gets a +part. Salary is no object. Perhaps the management has saved five or ten +dollars a week on the deal. At any rate a good-looker adds "class" to +the personnel. She drives to the theatre in a taxi; sometimes she comes +in a big limousine car accompanied by an elderly gentleman with watery +eyes. On the opening night he will send her great boxes of American +Beauty roses. After the show they will sup at Rector's, and his friends +who have been in front with him will tell her how pretty she looked. Of +course she will not go on the road with the company. Dear no! She will +leave that to some other girl who is not so young, not so pretty, but +who needs the money.</p> + +<p>The white-haired lady with the sweet face and the stern old man who has +brought her a<a name="page_116" id="page_116"></a> chair are man and wife. Theirs is one of the few stage +marriages which have endured. Perhaps it is the very rarity of the case +which makes them so popular and well-beloved. One hears them invariably +referred to as "Dear old Mr. and Mrs. So and So." One looks at them +wistfully and wonders at the secret of their success....</p> + +<p>The actor with the monocle, oddly cut clothes and the overpowering +savoir-faire is an English importation. Managers assert that the average +English actor plays the gentleman more effectively than his American +cousin. It all depends on what kind of a gentleman the rôle demands. +When an Englishman is called upon to portray a gentlemanly officer of +the United States Army the effect is incongruous to say the least. The +American manager, vulgar and uncouth himself, is impressed by the +English complacency. A bluffer, he has a sneaking respect for anyone who +throws a bluff and gets away with it.</p> + +<p>The several youngish men with a hint of effeminancy in their make-up +might be called the "stationaries" or "walking gentlemen." One of this +<i>genre</i> is to be found in nearly every company. Too proud for the ribbon +counter,<a name="page_117" id="page_117"></a> too erratic for commercial life, he drifts into the profession +because he feels the call of the artistic temperament. He plays small +parts, disseminates gossip, flatters the star—or the leading +lady—reads a little, sleeps much—and drinks more.</p> + +<p>That beefy looking man is the leading heavy. Not many years since he was +a leading man. Now when a leading man takes on flesh he is marked for a +reduction in value. The first step down in his career is the day he +begins to play heavies. To be sure, there are heavy men who never have +been leading men; these, however, come under the head of character +heavies. The gentlemanly heavy unfailingly aspires to heroic rôles. The +present incumbent of villainy had "fallen on his feet." Some seasons +previously he had played an inconsequential engagement under the same +management. The star took a fancy to him. Henceforth his engagements +were assured—until the fancy waned. Everybody understood; they shrugged +their shoulders and smiled. Nobody cared. Neither did the heavy man.</p> + +<p>Character actors without exception are envious of the leading man. "Call +that acting?" demands the man behind the make-up. "Call<a name="page_118" id="page_118"></a> it acting to +walk on and play yourself? Why, it's a cinch!"</p> + +<p>"<i>O, is it?</i>" retorts the leading man. "You ought to try it. It's the +most difficult thing in the world to walk on and be perfectly natural. +I'd like to see some of you fellows who hide behind your wigs and queer +make-ups go on and play a straight part. Why you wouldn't know what to +do with your hands!" ...</p> + +<p>There was something plaintive about the woman who sat in the shadow of +the set-pieces, piled high against the wall. The rouge on her cheeks but +accentuated the lines in her face. The brassy gold on her hair showed +gray against her temples. "Better days" was clearly stamped all over +her. Perhaps she was thinking of those days—when <i>she</i> was a star; when +being a star meant something more than an animated clothes-horse. Her +mother had been a great actress in the Booth and Barrett days. She, +herself, had lisped some childish lines with them. Later, she had become +a soubrette and a star in merry little plays in which she sang and +danced and "emoted," all in one evening. There are no soubrettes +nowadays. The term has degenerated into a slangy sobriquet. "Ingénue" +has replaced it; nothing is required of<a name="page_119" id="page_119"></a> an <i>ingénue</i> but saccharine +sweetness and vacuous prettiness—and youth, youth, <i>youth</i>! O, the +harvest of age! The public which she had amused for years has forgotten +her. They scarcely recall her existence: not even a hand of recognition +on her entrance. Occasionally a reviewer will dig her out of the dust of +the past—only to speak of her as "in Memoriam." Managers, too, hesitate +to engage her. There are so many has-beens and so few parts to fit them. +Besides, there are freshly spawned pupils from the divine academies to +be had for the asking. Why waste money?...</p> + +<p>A psychical ripple disturbs the ether. Necks crane toward the door. The +star arrives. She comes slowly, with the air of one assured of an +effective entrance. She punctuates her animated conversation with the +manager with smiles and nods. That meek-looking person bringing up the +rear is the author. He gropes his way through the dark passage to the +front of the house and is lost in oblivion.</p> + +<p>"First act!" calls the prompter. <i>"First act!</i>"</p> + +<p class="ast">* * * *</p> + +<p>The play opened out of town. The working force was sent ahead with the +scenery and<a name="page_120" id="page_120"></a> the baggage. There was a special train for the company. +Besides the regular staff there were costumers, flash-light +photographers, relatives of the players and guests of the management. +The guests included several critics from certain New York journals. One +of these had an ambitious wife who was a member of the company. The +other, rumour had it, was on the salary list of the management. This may +or may not have been true. Subsequent effusive reviews and the manner in +which these critics took up the cudgels against the enemies of the +manager did not, however, indicate unbiased opinion. "Subsidized or +hypnotized"—that was the question. The persuasive art of "fixing" is +not confined to politics.</p> + +<p>When the train arrived in ——, there was barely time for a hasty bite +before rushing off to the theatre. One felt the thrill of excitement at +the very stage door. Even the back doorkeeper was infected. When Will +stopped to look through the pigeon-holes for mail, the keeper of the +sacred portal was exhibiting a brand new litter of kittens. "Everyone of +'em black; just like their mother. Your show'll be a big success—talk +about your mascots!" Stage-folk are as superstitious as a nigger mammy.<a name="page_121" id="page_121"></a> +A whole chapter might be devoted to their lore. One of the greatest +hoodoos is to speak the tag of a play before the opening night. The tag +of a play is the last several words immediately preceding the final fall +of the curtain. When it comes to the tag, the actor to whose lot the +final lines fall either stops with a gesture or perhaps he purloins +Hamlet's last words—"The rest is silence."</p> + +<p>Back on the stage there was the sound of hammers, the shouts of the +stage-hands to the men in the flies, "drops" being adjusted, calls of +warning to some reckless person about to come in contact with a sandbag +at that moment lowered from the flies. Abrupt blasts of the orchestra +reach one's ears. The music cues are being rehearsed, the director +shouting against the din on the stage. On the "apron," with a bottle of +milk in his hand and surrounded by a half dozen coatless and perspiring +men, is the producer. A shaft of light darts from the spot-light machine +in the gallery, and hovers over the stage like a searchlight at sea. +Green, yellow, red and blue slides are tried and a weird waving moving +picture effect brings a shout of laughter from the privileged watchers +in front. In the dressing-rooms<a name="page_122" id="page_122"></a> the players are making up. The wardrobe +mistress hurries from one to another, needle and thread in hand. There +are impatient calls for the head costumer; "Props" taps at the doors and +delivers the properties to be carried by the various actors in the play. +The actors talk across the partitions or run through lines of a "shaky" +scene. "Fifteen minutes—fifteen minutes!" warns the assistant stage +manager making the rounds. Below stage, the supers or "extra people" sit +about in noisy groups awaiting the call. Some of them are as "nervous as +a cat," to use their own expression. These are not the rank and file of +supernumeraries. The promise of a long run in New York ofttimes tempts +women who have "spoken lines" to go on as extra ladies. As a sop they +are given a leading part to understudy. The excitement is infectious. +With the lowering of the curtain and the first strains of the orchestra +one instinctively shifts forward to the edge of one's seat.</p> + +<p>It is either the lights or a missing prop or a hiatus between speech and +action which the first acquaintance with the scenery develops or a +"jumbled" ensemble or something unexpected which brings the rehearsal to +an abrupt halt.<a name="page_123" id="page_123"></a> The dialogue stops like a megaphone suddenly shut off. +The director hurries down the centre aisle, the prompter's head appears +at the proscenium arch. "Loved I not honour more!" repeats the actor, +looking expectantly off stage. "Loved I not honour more!" bellows the +stage-manager, getting into the game. "That's <i>your</i> cue, Mr. Prime +Minister. Mr. Jones. Mr. Jones! Where <i>is</i> Mr. Jones?"</p> + +<p>"Jones! Jones!" reverberates about the stage and in the flies.</p> + +<p>"Here I am! I hear you!" answers a muffled voice up-stage. "I can't get +through. The entrance's blocked with a sacred elephant!" There is a rush +of stage hands in the direction indicated. Simultaneously Mr. Jones +appears L. <small>I</small>. E. "I'm sorry," he says, "but I couldn't butt in through +the stone walls of the castle, now could I?" indicating the boxed set +which formed the outer walls of the scene.</p> + +<p>The obstruction is removed amidst a heated confab and the stage cleared +for action. "Go back—go back to Miss Melon's entrance." Miss Melon +enters. The scene starts flatly enough. It is difficult to pick up a +scene and get back into the atmosphere at once. One must "warm up to +it."<a name="page_124" id="page_124"></a></p> + +<p>A star requires an effective entrance. The audience must be apprised of +her approach. "Here she comes now!" (accompanied by a look off stage.) +Or, a flunkey enters and solemnly announces, "His Highness, Prince of +Ptomania, mounts the steps." These helpful hints prepare the reception +which the ushers start at the psychological moment. Many persons are +backward about applauding for fear of making a mistake: just follow the +usher. The supporting actors understand that they are expected to +"humour" the applause, either upon an entrance or for a scene. Stars, +however, do not always encourage applause for their supporting actors. +Some of them go so far as to "shut it off" by flashing on house light on +a curtain in which they do not figure, or dimming the foots or directing +the actors to "jump in" with the next speech.</p> + +<p>In the midst of a scene which sends little shivers up and down one's +spinal column the star hesitates, stammers, repeats, then interpolates +while she searches frantically among the papers on the table for the +missing prop. "Where's the knife—the fatal dagger?" she demands, +dropping the rôle as one would step out of a petticoat. The man about to +be killed<a name="page_125" id="page_125"></a> joins in the hunt for the deadly weapon. "I can't kill you +very well without a knife, can I, Jack? Unless I stab you with a +hatpin—" There is something so incongruous in the rapid contrasts that +everyone, including the star herself, gives way to laughter. Meanwhile +the stage-manager's yells for Props have brought that culprit from the +flies where he has been touching up a damp cloud with a paint brush.</p> + +<p>"The knife!" a chorus hurls at him.</p> + +<p>"What knife?" he demands, continuing to mix the silver lining to the +cloud.</p> + +<p>"The dagger! I told you the last thing not to forget it!" fumes the +bumptious stage-manager.</p> + +<p>"Aw, what's the matter with you?" replies Props witheringly. Then he +ambles down to the star, who by this time is lost in a little side-play +with her heavy man. "Miss Blank," he begins with punctuation marks +between each word, "Miss Blank, didn't you tell me to leave that knife +on your dressing table so you could place it where you wanted it on the +table centre?"</p> + +<p>"I did, I did! I apologize, Johnny—I beg everybody's pardon!" She makes +a contrite bow toward the front of the house. Johnny<a name="page_126" id="page_126"></a> shuffles off, +muttering to himself, and Madame's maid enters with the missing link. +"Let's begin at your cross," Madame says to the heavy. "Just before you +say, 'Darling, my life, my love, you're mine at last!' And Jack—I hope +your wooden chest protector is in place, for I'm going to strike +to-night just as I am going to do to-morrow night and turn it r-r-round +and r-r-round, as if I loved your blood—and Mr. Director," she glides +to the foots and shades her eyes from the glare, "Herr Director, can't +you play a little more <i>piano</i> just at that point? I want my gurgle of +delight to get <i>over</i>—understand?... O, Mr. Hartley, while I think of +it——"</p> + +<p>She toys with the ornaments on his dress as she speaks. "In our next +scene give me a little more room; play farther down stage. It's better +for our scene." Mr. Hartley smiles to himself as he disappears in the +wings; he is "on-to" the little tricks of stars and leading ladies. To +make a <i>vis-à-vis</i> play the scene down stage is to rob him of any +effective participation in the scene. "To hog" is the vulgar but +expressive infinitive applied to this trick of the trade.</p> + +<p>After many false starts, the end of the act is finally reached. The +players are then posed in<a name="page_127" id="page_127"></a> certain effective scenes from the play and +the flash-light pictures are taken. Then comes a change of costume and +the second act is set. During the long wait members of the company come +in front to get a glimpse of the scenery or to discuss the play and the +performance with their friends. I recall an instance which will +exemplify the jealousy of one star for another, especially those under +the same management. During the early years of Will's career he had +played with a summer stock company. The leading woman of the +organization was now one of the stars under Will's present management. +She had come on from her country home—(her own season had not yet +opened)—and was an interested spectator of the dress rehearsal. She and +Will had kept up a desultory interest during the intervening years and +were on a friendly footing. "What do you think of the play?" he asked, +sitting down beside her.</p> + +<p>"It's a sensation," she predicted. "How does your part pan out?"</p> + +<p>"O, it's a fair part. I've got a couple of big scenes, but the <i>heavy</i> +makes circles all around him. If I had read the play before I signed, I +believe I should have turned it down."<a name="page_128" id="page_128"></a></p> + +<p>"What do you care—you're the <i>hero</i>, and that is what counts with the +women. It fits you like a glove; and, speaking of parts, what do you +think of <i>that</i> for a star-part? Did you ever see anything like it? +She's the whole show.... When I think of the <i>also-ran</i> I am playing for +a star part ... let me tell you—just between ourselves—that he'll have +to hand me out something fatter next season or there'll be something +doing in another direction. Little Abe's syndicate has been making eyes +at me and—you never can tell. Glory! I never saw such an acting part in +my life! Why, she isn't off the stage two minutes during the whole first +act!"</p> + +<p class="ast">* * * *</p> + +<p>It is past midnight when the curtain goes down on the second act. The +lights have worked badly and for an hour the electricians have been put +through the paces until the desired effect is reached. Spirits begin to +flag. The Englishman's wife sets up a tea basket; friends and relatives +are sent out for sandwiches and "something to wash 'em down." At this +stage of the siege one becomes a mere machine. There is no attempt at +acting. It is now a mechanical perfection. When the scenic<a name="page_129" id="page_129"></a> effects +refuse to act on cues or "anticipate" the same, or the supers jumble and +everybody grows cross and "on edge," one shudders to realize that the +opening night is close at hand. One hopes and prays things will not go +like this to-morrow night. There is consolation in the old adage: "A +poor dress rehearsal—a good first night."</p> + +<p>We leave the theatre when the milkman is making his rounds. A day of +fitful sleep with its undercurrent of tension; the opening night with +nerves tuned to the highest pitch, then success or failure, who can +tell? The box office is the arbiter.</p> + +<p>The opening night is not the only strain attendant upon a new +production. One is on tenter-hooks for days, perhaps weeks, to learn +whether the play has "caught on" or not. Favourable, even laudatory, +reviews will not drag the public into the theatre if they do not like +the offering. Stars may have a certain drawing power, but "The play's +the thing." No star ever yet saved a bad play from oblivion or spoiled a +good play with bad acting.</p> + +<p>I am sure that Will and the members of the company watched the "houses" +from the peep-holes in the curtain as eagerly as the star and<a name="page_130" id="page_130"></a> the +management kept an eye on the box-office receipts. "How was the house +last night?" was the daily question I put to Will with his morning +coffee. Finally we settled back with the assurance of a season's run +ahead of us. I set in motion the plans I had outlined for myself. I +induced Will to study languages with me for a time, but his hours were +so uncertain that he finally dropped out. Music was a passion with me. I +went through a whole season of the Opera treat I had promised myself for +years. Will was fond of music, too, and sometimes we would go together +to the Sunday night concerts at the Metropolitan. Of course there were +still the dinner-parties and the supper-parties and matinées for +benevolent purposes. Will seemed to have tired of the parties and spent +more and more of his time at the Lambs. He never came home to supper +after the theatre nowadays. I missed my little talks with him across the +supper table. There was no longer any need to throw cold water in my +face to keep myself fresh until his coming. Sometimes when I was wakeful +I would hear him come in; it was generally daylight. Sometimes, on +Sunday morning, if he found me awake he would hand me the Morning +Telegram.<a name="page_131" id="page_131"></a> No wonder they call it "the chorus girl's breakfast." Among +other things I did not like about the Lambs was that irritating way the +telephone boy had of asking "Who's calling, please." Will said they do +that at all Clubs.<a name="page_132" id="page_132"></a></p> + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII</h3> + +<p class="nind">B<small>Y</small> this time I had my own little <i>coterie</i> and I prided myself it was a +cosmopolitan gathering which graced our little apartment on the second +and third Sundays of the month. There was so much to learn, the +interests were so diversified that I eagerly welcomed members of other +professions than our own—if they were worth while. Our sculptor friend +brought men who had travelled in remote parts of the world; they in turn +brought others. We numbered several army and navy officers, a German +scientist, men and women journalists, a cartoonist and an artist, women +engaged in Settlement work and the quaint old French professor who +taught me the language. When we could overcome his diffidence he was a +mine of information. He had witnessed the Commune of Paris and was +working on a book on that subject.</p> + +<p>It is an interesting study to divide the <i>pastiche</i> from the real. The +time-killers and the curious soon dropped out. It was not difficult to +limit our <i>coterie</i> to the dimensions of our<a name="page_133" id="page_133"></a> home. I could not but +contrast my simple "at homes" with those of the Dingleys. We had +received several cards for their Sundays and Will said we must go to at +least one of them. The Dingleys had sprung from humble beginnings. They +were jocosely referred to as the "ten, twent' and thirt's."</p> + +<p>When I was a little girl in short skirts they were members of a +répertoire company which played our town during County Fair week. The +répertoire comprised such good old timers as The Two Orphans, the +Danites, East Lynne, the Silver King, Streets of New York, Camille and +The Ticket-of-Leave Man. Mrs. Dingley was the leading lady and her +husband the utility man. She was my ideal of a heroine—in those days. +Her hair was very golden, and as the weepy heroine she wore a black +velvet dress with a long train. That black velvet (later experience told +me it was velveteen) played many parts. It was a princess, and for +evening wear the guimpe had only to be removed. Or, when the heroine was +ailing, as becomes a persecuted woman, the princess, with the help of a +full front panel, was converted into a tea-gown. Again, it was used as a +riding habit, draped up on one side and topped by husband's silk hat<a name="page_134" id="page_134"></a> +wound round with a veil. With a good deal of crêpe drapery from the +bonnet, the same gown passed muster as widow's weeds. Mentally, I +resolved that when I became an actress I should have just such a +prestidigital gown in my wardrobe.</p> + +<p>By dint of hard work on Mrs. Dingley's part and unmitigated nerve on the +part of her husband they had finally arrived on Broadway. They had +recently acquired a large house in the older part of the city and I +understood it was Mrs. Dingley's idea to establish a <i>salon</i>. Certainly +she was successful in drawing a crowd. The house was strikingly +furnished. There was much gold furniture and antique bric-à-brac; +canopied beds and monogrammed counterpanes. After a personally conducted +tour of the house and an enlightening dissertation upon the real worth +of and prices paid for the fittings, one retained a confusing sense of +having had an exercise in mental arithmetic.</p> + +<p>It seemed rather catty of the women to make fun of the Dingleys behind +their back and at the same time accept their hospitality. Two smart +looking women whom I recognized as members of Mrs. D's. company appeared +to get no little amusement out of the coat of arms<a name="page_135" id="page_135"></a> on Mrs. Dingley's +bed. "Why didn't they purloin a beer-stein, quiescent on a japanned +tray?" I heard one say.</p> + +<p>"Or a Holstein bull rampant on a field of cotton," the other giggled.</p> + +<p>I failed to grasp the significance of their remarks, though I saw the +humour in their allusion to the empty book-shelves which lined the walls +of the library. "Why not buy several hundred feet of red-backed books, +like a certain politician who wanted to fill up the wall space in his +library?"</p> + +<p>"Pshaw! It would be cheaper to use props," scoffed the other.</p> + +<p>I myself thought a dictionary and a few grammars a sensible beginning, +as Mrs. Dingley was a veritable Mrs. Malaprop. Later I committed a <i>faux +pas</i>, though I meant no offense. In my effort to say something nice to +my hostess I remarked that I had seen her years ago during the early +days of her struggle and that I had been one of her ardent admirers. The +way she said, "Yes?" with the frosty inflection made me understand she +did not care to remember her beginnings.</p> + +<p>While we were drinking tea out of priceless cups—the history of which +was being retailed<a name="page_136" id="page_136"></a> by our host—there was a commotion and a craning of +necks toward the stairs. The hostess hurried forward to greet the late +arrival. There was considerable nudging and innuendo exchanged as a +small pleasant-faced man with a Van Dyke beard entered the room. Our +host greeted him jovially, almost boisterously. "Here comes the +king—here comes the king!" hummed the two actresses, winking +significantly at me. There was a buzz of voices while Mrs. Dingley +paraded the lion of the occasion about the room with an air of playful +proprietorship. The little man had a penchant for pretty girls and +flattery. He got both. Everybody fawned on him, Mr. Dingley laboured +heroically to be witty. My curiosity finally drove me to ask my +neighbours who the little man was.</p> + +<p>"Is he a manager, or a producer, or?—?" I whispered.</p> + +<p>There was a peal of laughter before I was answered.</p> + +<p>"O, he's a producer, all right! Why, don't you know who he is? He's the +goose that laid the golden egg!" taking in the gold furniture with a +comprehensive sweep of her hand. She lowered her voice and leaned toward +<a name="page_137" id="page_137"></a>me. "He's Mr. ——!" I recognized the name of the multi-millionaire. "Is +he?" I queried, trying to get another look at him.</p> + +<p>The women relapsed into their confidences. "How do you suppose she +explains it to ——?" calling Mr. Dingley by his first name. The other +woman shrugged her shoulders. "She doesn't have to explain; money +talks."</p> + +<p>On the way home I asked Will what they meant.</p> + +<p>He smiled and shrugged his shoulders. "They do say that the little man +is an 'angel.'"</p> + +<p>"Well, suppose he is?" I began indignantly. "There is such a thing as +clean-minded men of the world: patrons of art without ulterior motives. +All art needs fostering, and who better able to help the climbers +than——?"</p> + +<p>Will laid his hand on mine, a little way he had when he wanted to +reassure me.</p> + +<p>"I haven't a doubt in the world that there are clean-minded men of means +without 'ulterior motives,' as you express it. I also believe that hen's +teeth are rare."</p> + +<p class="ast">* * * *</p> + +<p>There were other near-salons to which we were invited. Some of them were +highly temperamental gatherings. Every large city has<a name="page_138" id="page_138"></a> its artistic set, +but New York may safely claim the medal for the half-baked neurotics who +wallow in illicit cults which they sanctify in the name of art. One of +the most typical and, by the same token, the most amusing of these +esoteric feasts was presided over by a lady-like creature who had spent +some time in the Far East. We were met at the outer portal by a jet +black, down-South negro done up in full Eastern regalia. An air of +mysticism permeated even the box couches against the wall. They had a +peculiar "feel" to them and one sank into their enfolding depths as one +is taught to sink into the arms of Nirvana. It must have been awful for +short, fat persons to scramble to their feet, after once being beguiled +into sitting on these couches. The mysticism was enhanced by burning +incense, shaded lights, draperies, and the host himself, who received us +in Eastern garb, resplendent with the famous jewels, a gift from some +potentate or other. We were conducted to a dais where the guest of +honour—an oily, complacent Swami—received us. If we were pretty, the +Swami held our hands longer than the amenities of good society demand. +Some of the guests were highly sensitized beings. Some were lean like +Cassius;<a name="page_139" id="page_139"></a> perhaps they "thought too much." There was a preponderance of +Greek and other classic dresses, over un-classic figures. (Why <i>will</i> +doctors condemn the corset?) Hair-dressing was simplicity itself; in +fact, the simplicity suggested a lick and a promise. Sometimes there +were beads woven in the scrambled mess.</p> + +<p>The sockless damsel was in evidence and nobility was represented by a +certain antique Baroness with a penchant for baby blonde hair. Affinity +hunters abounded. By the dreamy longing of their watery eyes shall ye +know them. Some there were who had made several excursions into the +realms of free and easy love, but <i>all</i>, all had returned empty-handed, +unsatisfied. O cruel Fate! And so they go, hunting, hunting....</p> + +<p>After a call to silence, the Swami with the ingratiating smile and good +front teeth made an address. It was a mystical, tortuous, rambling +discourse which sounded to me a good deal like an advocation of free +love. He told what ailed us; he said we didn't love enough. He assured +us it was O, so easy to get our slice of the wonderful, all-pervading +ether with which we were saturated. We simply didn't know how to use it. +He had come to teach us:<a name="page_140" id="page_140"></a> his the mission to prescribe for us. +Electricity had been harnessed, why not love? I shuddered when I thought +of the possibilities of a love-trust. Of course it would be cornered by +some of the millionaires.</p> + +<p>After the address everybody clustered around the dispenser of Oriental +pearls. The Swami slipped little printed matters into the palms of the +neophytes. They told how farther enlightenment could be attained, on +given days at given hours and given prices.</p> + +<p>Later our brute element was fortified by wafers and a mysterious punch. +I felt sorry for the late-comers who missed the intellectual feed and +arrived just in time for the refreshments. Wafers are not very +sustaining. The punch was a mysterious and subtle concoction with a +tendency to promulgate the tenets of the Swami's new religion. Before we +took our leave I thought the eyes of the new disciples had grown more +languishing and were considerably lit up. It may have been, of course, +that the Swami had taken the lid off a few vats of his cerulean ether +which was too highly rarefied for those present. As we closed the door +and stepped out into the winter night, we instinctively inhaled the cold +air, which, though<a name="page_141" id="page_141"></a> it may not be full of love, is full of common-sense +ozone.</p> + +<p>"When Boston people want to be naughty they go to New York." Our hostess +nodded sententiously across the table as she made the statement.</p> + +<p>"Why confine it to Boston? Why not Philadelphia, Washington or ——?"</p> + +<p>"Because I don't know anything about those cities, and I do know my home +city," interrupted his wife.</p> + +<p>"I guess you're right," Mr. Mollett answered. "It's the same spirit +which keeps alive Le Rat Mort, or Maxim's, or any of those resorts in +Paris. You rarely meet a Parisian at these show-places. If it were not +for the foreigners—principally Americans and English—they'd have to +shut up shop."</p> + +<p>"That's precisely my contention. One does things in Paris or New York +one would never think of in Boston."</p> + +<p>Will had met Mr. Mollett at a Lambs' Gambol one Sunday night during the +recent season in New York. They had taken a shine to each other, to use +Mr. Mollett's expression, and had exchanged cards. "I liked your husband +from the start," Mr. Mollett once said to<a name="page_142" id="page_142"></a> me. "He's not a bit like an +actor; he's natural and not a bit of a <i>poseur</i>." It appears that when +anyone wants to pay an actor a particularly high compliment he tells him +he is not a bit like an actor! This is not flattering to the rank and +file of players, who labour under the misapprehension that to be +effective they must act on and off the stage.</p> + +<p>On the opening night of the following season in Boston Will was pleased +to find a card from Mr. Mollett and a note from his wife, asking whether +I was in town; if so, would I waive the formality of a call and join +them at "beans" on Saturday night after the performance.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Mollett's Saturday suppers were as much of an institution as the +beans themselves. Our hostess was a bright, intelligent little woman +without the pretense of the intellectual. Externally, she had all the +ear-marks of a Boston woman. She wore the practical but disfiguring +goloshes of a Boston winter and she carried a reticule. Her dress might +have been made in Paris, but it had a true New England hang to it. It +wasn't a component part of her; it was <i>a thing apart</i>. Her skin was +rough and fretted with pin-wrinkles. I never<a name="page_143" id="page_143"></a> saw a jar of cold cream on +her dressing-table.</p> + +<p>The Molletts enjoyed a comfortable income which they appeared to use +judiciously. Their home was comfortable and in good taste. Their library +was a treat; not merely fine bindings and rare editions. The volumes +showed an intimate acquaintance with the owner. By the process of +elimination they had formed a selected chain of the better class of +actors, who found a warm welcome awaiting them whenever they played +Boston. The Molletts' leaning toward the artistic had no taint of the +free-and-easy predilection. The element of illusion furnished by their +player friends was precisely the variety needed to counteract the +monotony of their daily routine. Both sides benefited by the exchange.</p> + +<p>Boston was the first stand on tour. The second season had opened with a +six weeks' engagement in New York and one, two or more weeks were booked +in the larger cities. The original company was advertised and—rare +integrity—maintained. Will decided that it was cheaper to carry the boy +and me on the road than to keep up two establishments. Luckily we sublet +our apartment. I was for sending<a name="page_144" id="page_144"></a> Experience back to her home, though I +had become sincerely attached to her and so had Boy. Will declared we +could not manage without a nurse. I assured him we could. "You don't +suppose you can carry that Buster around in your arms, do you? And +wouldn't I look nice climbing on and off trains, and coming into hotels +with a baby in my arms? Pretty picture for a matinée idol! No, ma'am, +Experience remains. Besides," he smiled at me, "a nurse and a valet help +to make a good front. It'll keep the management guessing."</p> + +<p>Unfortunately the management were not the only ones kept guessing. Good +hotels were expensive and Will's position did not permit him to stop at +any other kind. It worried me a great deal to see Will's envelope come +in on Tuesday and scarcely anything left on Wednesday when we had paid +the bills. I suspected, too, that Will had some debts hanging over from +last season. I knew he had drawn on the management during the summer. We +foolishly took a cottage at Allenhurst on the sea, where we spent our +holidays. The week-end parties proved expensive. It was easily +accessible to New York and I never knew how popular Will was with the +profession<a name="page_145" id="page_145"></a> until that summer. I regretted we had not gone back to the +farm in the Catskills.</p> + +<p>I saw a great deal more of Will on the road than I had in New York. +There was no Lambs' Club and, though Will had guest-cards to clubs in +various cities, there was not the lure of intimate association. We took +long walks together, browsed in the book-shops, visited public buildings +such as the library in Boston, and sometimes lunched or "tead" with +friends. Will did not care to accept invitations to dinner; he said it +made him "logey" to dine late and interfered with his evening +performances. Altogether we came nearer to the old intimacy and +comradeship than we had known for several years. At Christmas time we +planned the boy's first tree. We believed he was now old enough to +appreciate it. Santa Claus now became a name to conjure with; it acted +as a bribe to good behaviour or a threat of punishment.</p> + +<p>Will and I went shopping together. The big toy-shops proved the most +fascinating things in the world. We spent hours looking at the wonders +of toy-land which the present-day child enjoys. Will said it made him +feel like a boy and surely it brought out all the<a name="page_146" id="page_146"></a> youth in his nature. +His eyes would snap and sparkle with delight over a miniature railway +with practicable engine and carriages, electric head-lights, block +signals and the like. "Gee! What wouldn't I have given for an outfit +like that when I was a kid!" he would exclaim. As for me, I couldn't +make up my mind which I enjoyed the most; the pretty children who +crowded the shop or the toys they came to see.</p> + +<p>We made several visits to Santa Claus land without being able to decide +what would best please Boy. Experience advised us to have him make his +own choice. When Experience took him for a tour of the shops he decided +upon everything in the place. Suddenly the whole world faded into +insignificance: "Senyder!" he stuttered, pointing imperiously to a dog +whose breed seemed as indeterminate as the prototype. All dogs were +Snyders to Boy, but perhaps the perpetual motion of the tail which +wagged automatically reminded him most strongly of the original. It did +no good to tell him that Santa Claus would bring Snyder down the +chimney. Boy had his own ideas about fairies and their ilk. He refused +to leave the shop without the dog. Needless to say the dog went home +with us. Will never<a name="page_147" id="page_147"></a> could endure Boy's shrieks. But, in extenuation, +let it be said that not one of the toys Boy found grouped about his tree +on Christmas morning—and their name was legion—gave him the joy he +found in the mongrel pup. Miss Burton sent a box from far-off San +Francisco, where she was playing. The Chinese dolls interested him for a +moment, but his heart was true to Snyder. He slept with him, shared his +food with him, sobbed out his childish grief with Snyder in his arms, +and refused to part with his faithful friend even when old age robbed +him of his woolly coat and shiny eyes.</p> + +<p>The star gave a party on Christmas Eve. When the curtain went down on +the last act, the applause was choked off by the flashing on of the +house lights. The stage-manager gave the order to strike, and in a short +time the stage was clear. The carpenters then put together the +improvised banquet board—great long planks of lumber resting upon +saw-horses. From the iron landing of the first tier of spiral stairs +upon which Will's dressing-room gave I watched the caterer's men lay the +table. I had spent the latter part of the evening in the cubby hole—a +rare occurrence, since I seldom went behind the scenes except with +friends of Will's<a name="page_148" id="page_148"></a> who had attended the performance and who wanted to +see what the back of the stage looked like.</p> + +<p>Shortly before twelve o'clock the members of the company and a few +outside guests assembled on the stage—where they were received by the +star-hostess. In the midst of the chatter the lights went out. At first +everyone thought it an accident until a bell in the distance chimed the +witching hour. As the last stroke died away a faint jingle of sleigh +bells wafted across the air. Nearer and louder they came, interspersed +with the snap of a whip. A great shaft of light from above shot +obliquely across the stage. From out of the clouds, as it seemed, a +full-fledged Santa Claus descended like a flying machine. With the aid +of a little "sneaky" music furnished by the orchestra and the faithful +spot-light which dogged his very footsteps, Santy placed the huge tree +in the centre of the table and unloaded his pack. With many a grotesque +antic he surveyed his labour of love and finally, having sampled the +contents of a decanter which graced the table, he rubbed his much padded +pouch in satisfaction, laughed merrily, shouted a "merry Christmas to +you all," and disappeared<a name="page_149" id="page_149"></a> into the clouds. The effect was so bewitching +and so eerie that old Kris received a spontaneous "hand" on his exit.</p> + +<p>I thought of Boy and how much he would have enjoyed the scene. Myriad +little lights twinkled like stars upon the wonderful trees. A warm, red +glow poured from imaginary fireplaces off stage. To the accompaniment of +ohs! and ahs! and a merry potpourri from the orchestra we took our seats +at table. I am sure any audience would gladly have paid a premium for +tickets to this special performance.</p> + +<p>The supper proved to be an eight-course dinner. There was everything +from nut-brown turkey to hot mince pie. The drinkables were varied and +plentiful. I noticed that after the third or fourth course everybody was +telling everybody else what a good actor he or she was. It developed +into a veritable mutual admiration society. Will kicked me under the +table several times when the character man told him what a good actor he +was; it was common property that the character man "knocked" Will behind +his back. The tall, good-looking girl I had noticed at rehearsals passed +around a new diamond pendant<a name="page_150" id="page_150"></a> she had just received from her friend in +New York.</p> + +<p>"He's just crazy about you, ain't he?" chaffed one of the actors. The +good-looking girl laughed and winked.</p> + +<p>"He sure is," she answered, "and I never even gave him as much as +<i>that</i>," measuring off an infinitesimal speck of her thumb nail.</p> + +<p>A shout of laughter greeted her remark. A little later when she got +warmed up she made eyes at Will across the table and threw him violets +from her huge corsage bouquet. "Ev'ry matinée day I send thee violets," +she paraphrased in song, the significance of which was lost on me until +some days later.</p> + +<p>Toward the end of the dinner the packages were opened. Each memento was +accompanied by a limerick hitting off the idiosyncrasies of the +recipient, who was asked to read it aloud. Whoever composed the +limericks was well paid for sitting up o' nights, for they caused a deal +of merriment even if they were not entirely free from sting. After +dinner there was vaudeville. The star gave some imitations of a <i>café +chantant</i> which brought down the house. The musical director had +composed a skit which he called "Very Grand Opera." The theme<a name="page_151" id="page_151"></a> hinged on +a leave-taking of one or more characters from the other. The book +consisted of one word; <i>farewell</i>. I had never realized how long-winded +the farewells of opera are until I heard the parody. The humour of it +quite spoiled the tender duos, trios and choruses of the genuine +article.</p> + +<p>Dear old Mr. and Mrs. —— contributed a cake-walk. No one suspected the +grumpy old gentleman to have so much ginger in him. A good old Virginia +reel and "Tucker" limbered everybody into action.</p> + +<p>Before we dispersed, old Santa Claus—impersonated by one of the walking +gentlemen—again donned his beard and buckskin and accompanied by a +noisy crew carried the great tree to the boarding-house where the +child-actress of the company was staying. At the street end of the alley +which led from the stage-entrance a big burly policeman stopped them; +they <i>were</i> noisy to be sure. But even the officer laughed when Santy +touched him on the arm and in a "tough" dialect asked him, "Say Bill, do +youse believe in fairies?"</p> + +<p>If Will had any experiences in Boston only one came under my notice; +rather, it was forced upon me. It was during the second<a name="page_152" id="page_152"></a> week of the +engagement that Will began to bring me violets. Now, he had not shown me +this attention for several years. I was too much flattered at the time +to notice that the flowers always came on matinée days, after the +performance. Will generally took a walk after a matinée. He said it +refreshed him for the evening performance. He would come in, glowing +from the exercise, simply radiating health and energy. I knew what time +to expect him and I would sit listening for the elevator to stop on our +floor. I knew Will's step the minute he came down the hall. When he +opened the door I instinctively sniffed the fresh air he brought in with +him. I liked to feel his cold cheek against mine ... and to hear him +puff and growl to amuse Boy as he pulled off his heavy coat. He was +irresistible. The violets came in a purple box with the imprint of the +florist in gold letters. The first time he brought them he set the box +on the table without handing them to me. One of my weaknesses is +flowers.</p> + +<p>"What's this?" I asked, pouncing upon the box.</p> + +<p>"Open it and see," he answered with one of his quizzical sidelong +glances.<a name="page_153" id="page_153"></a></p> + +<p>"For me?" I asked a little dubiously. I lost no time in opening the box. +If the shadow of a thought that an admirer of Will's had sent him the +flowers flitted across my mind it was lost in Will's smile as he +answered,</p> + +<p>"For my best girl."</p> + +<p>I buried my face in their cool depths. "Violets! O, the beauties! I like +the single variety best, don't you, Will? They're so fresh and woodsy." +Then my conscience smote me. Violets are expensive this time of year. +"Will—weren't they <i>horribly</i> expensive?" Just the same I was pleased +to death—as I had heard matinée girls say—and I made up my mind to +forego something I needed to offset Will's flattering extravagance. I +nursed and tended those violets until the next matinée day came round. +When they faded I pressed them between blotting paper, intending when I +got back home to put them away with other flowers Will had given me....</p> + +<p>It was on Tuesday, the day after Christmas. I had gone out with Mrs. +Mollett to tea at a woman's club. The violets Will had brought me after +the Christmas matinée were reinforced by some lilies of the valley. The +huge bouquet looked particularly smart against<a name="page_154" id="page_154"></a> my fur coat. Mrs. +Mollett and I were late in getting back. I felt sure I should miss Will, +who was going out to dinner with some friends at a club. As I passed +through the hall to the lift a bell-boy overtook me. He told me there +was someone in the parlour waiting to see me. I asked for a card but +none had been sent. Wondering who could be calling on me—I had so few +acquaintances in Boston—and anticipating a pleasant surprise I followed +the boy to the parlour on the second floor. It was a large room and I +stopped in the portièred doorway half expectantly. The only occupant of +the room was a tall person—whether woman or girl I could not discern. +She stood with her back to the door, looking out the window. As she +glanced over her shoulder with no sign of recognition I turned to go. +The bell-boy, however, had waited behind me. "That's the lady who asked +for you over there." He approached the girl, who turned timidly.</p> + +<p>"You wanted to see Mrs. Hartley, didn't you? This is she."</p> + +<p>It was probably the surprise of hearing correct English from the lips of +a bell-boy which diverted my attention for a second. When I<a name="page_155" id="page_155"></a> looked at +the visitor I saw that she had flushed and was overcome with confusion.</p> + +<p>"There is—there appears to be some mistake," she stammered, addressing +herself to the retreating boy and averting my gaze. "I asked to see Mr. +Hartley—Mr. William Hartley," she called after the boy, though her +voice was scarcely audible. She looked toward the door in a bewildered +manner as if her only desire was to get away. There was something so +distressing, so pathetic about her embarrassment; not a modicum of +<i>savoir faire</i> or bluff to help her out. I found myself saying in a +kindly tone that only added oil to the flames: "I am Mrs. Hartley; Mrs. +William Hartley. Is there anything I can do?"</p> + +<p>For a full minute we stood and looked at each other. Under the full +light, which the boy had switched on as he went out, her face and figure +were sharply limned. A tall woman has always the best of it in any +controversy, though I am sure my <i>vis-à-vis</i> did not realize her +advantage. If her mind was as confused as her face indicated she was to +be pitied. She was not merely a plain woman; she was the epitome of +plainness. Nature had not given her a single redeeming feature; there +was not<a name="page_156" id="page_156"></a> even a hint of sauciness to the upturned nose; not a +speculative quirk to the corner of the mouth or a fetching droop to the +eyelids which sometimes illuminates the plainest of faces. Perhaps she +realized the niggardliness of her gifts. There was an evident attempt at +primping. Her hat sat uneasily upon a head unaccustomed to the +hair-dresser's art. The shoes, too, I felt, were painful: they were so +new and the heels so high, and unstable—a radical departure from the +common-sense last which was as much a component part of her as the feet +themselves. I visualized her home, her life and her commonplace +associates ... the eternal illusion of the stage ... Will's magnetism, +combined with the perfections and never-failing nobility of the stage +hero.... I saw it all as clearly as I saw the strained, +vari-expressioned face before me. All this in a brief fleeting moment. I +smiled encouragingly. Her eyes met mine, then wavered and drooped, and +drooping rested upon the violets—and we both understood....</p> + +<p>"Won't you sit down?" I said, leading the way to a divan with the idea +of easing the situation. "Do have a pillow!—there, is that more +comfortable? These sofas seem never<a name="page_157" id="page_157"></a> to fit in to one's back.... I'm +sorry Mr. Hartley is not in. Usually he <i>is</i> in at this hour, but +to-night he is dining out. I know he will be sorry to have missed you, +for I am sure he wants to thank you in person for the lovely flowers. +Yes, he told me all about it and we both appreciated your sweetness in +sending them. I hope Mr. Hartley wrote and properly thanked you,"—I +rattled on, hoping to give her time to recover herself. "He is, as a +rule, quite punctilious in these matters, but with the holidays and the +extra matinées—" I finished with an expressive shrug. There was a +disheartening silence.</p> + +<p>"I think I must be going," she faltered at last, waiting for me to rise. +"I'm afraid I've kept you too long.... You've been very kind.... I hope +you haven't been shocked by ... by ... the unconventional way I...." Her +speech came in jerks.</p> + +<p>"Not at all," I answered, jumping in and anticipating my cue. "Not at +all!" I reiterated, injecting more warmth in the confirmation than I +intended. I walked with her to the elevator. "I'm sorry it is so late or +I would ask you to stop for a cup of tea. But you will come again, won't +you?—perhaps you'll telephone me one<a name="page_158" id="page_158"></a> morning—not <i>too</i> early——" I +laughed a little as I pressed the button—"we're not early risers, and +we'll arrange a time when Mr. Hartley can be with us. I want you to meet +the boy—O, yes, we've got a baby, too! Of course, <i>we</i> think him the +most wonderful baby in the world. Aren't parents a conceited lot?" ... I +pressed her limp hand and smiled good-byes as the lift bore her out of +sight.</p> + +<p>Then the smile went out of me. I felt angry with myself: I felt I had +overdone it. What was the woman to me that I should exert myself to put +her at ease with herself? She was but one of the silly creatures who +"chase" the actor and pander to his vanity. I regretted the impulse +which prompted me to ask her to tea. Truly, I had made a fool of +myself.... At least, I had prevented her from making a farther fool of +herself—and of me....</p> + +<p>I went to my room but did not turn on the light for fear of attracting +Experience, whose room was across the court. She was probably waiting +for me. I wanted to be alone. I removed the violets from my coat. My +first impulse was to throw them out the window; then I thought better of +it—and of her. They<a name="page_159" id="page_159"></a> represented a woman's illusions—no, two women's +illusions.... Will had deliberately fooled me; even Miss Merdell, the +tall good-looker, knew he was fooling me. That was what she meant when +she chaffed him about the violets at the Christmas party. Perhaps it was +not of great consequence, but, does a woman ever forgive a man for +wounding her self-respect?...</p> + +<p>I did not look at Will when I told him of the visitor. He extricated +himself gracefully. He said he thought my perspicacity would have made +me tumble to the truth and when I didn't he concluded it was a shame to +put me wise. And, after all, what did it matter? He had brought the +flowers home to me when it was an easy matter to have turned them over +to the extra girls....</p> + +<p>Miss Gorr—that was her name—came to tea; in fact, she came several +times. Will declared she was in a fair way of becoming a bore.</p> + +<p>"For Heaven's sake, don't turn her loose on me," he expostulated. "I'm +willing to give her photographs and advice but I don't want to be seen +about with a freak like that!"</p> + +<p>I caught myself wondering—and I was<a name="page_160" id="page_160"></a> ashamed of the thought—whether +Will would have been bored were Miss Gorr not so hopelessly plain. Alice +was <i>smart</i> and there had been others and would probably be more to +come. I reached the point where I could shrug my shoulders +indifferently. It was all a part of the game and I was learning to play +it....<a name="page_161" id="page_161"></a></p> + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX</h3> + +<p class="nind">F<small>OLLOWING</small> Boston, the company played Philadelphia, Baltimore and +Pittsburgh. Each city has its distinguishing characteristics, but +certain types are to be found all over the country. There is always the +"fly" married woman hanging about hotel lobbies, lying in wait for the +actor or any dapper visitor who, like herself, is seeking diversion. She +drops in for a cock-tail or a high-ball and looks things over. She has a +sign manual of her own. The headwaiters know her and wink significantly +when she comes in with her friends. These women are not prostitutes in +the general acceptance of the word. They are products of our leisure +class. Their husbands are business or professional men in good standing. +With comfortable, even luxurious homes, or a stagnant life in a modern +hotel, time hangs heavily upon their hands. They have no intellectual +pursuits other than bridge and the "best seller." They pander to their +worst desires and wallow<a name="page_162" id="page_162"></a> in their alcoholic-fed passions. These are the +<i>stall-feds</i>; the drones; the wasters; the menace to the womanhood of +America. These are they who are grist to the divorce mills; who clog the +yellow press with prurient tales of passion; who stigmatize innocent +children and handicap them even before birth; who breed and interbreed +with such unconcern that it is indeed a wise child that knows its own +father. And in the end, when the Nemesis of faded charms overtakes them, +the army of harlots is swelled.</p> + +<p>The "neglected wife" has become a hoary old joke. It is worked to death. +My husband is responsible for the statement that in nine cases out of +ten women use this excuse to condone their own infidelity. "My husband +doesn't understand me; he knows nothing but business, business, +business. He doesn't realize there is another side to my nature which is +utterly starved." Or, "My husband is interested elsewhere. What am I to +do? For the sake of the children I don't want a divorce, and I am too +proud to let him see how I feel it. I am only human."</p> + +<p>That there are neglected wives a-plenty is a truism. But it is a +spurious brand of pride<a name="page_163" id="page_163"></a> which sends a woman roaming, seeking the +consolation of the Toms, Dicks and Harrys of the world. As for the +children, there are greater evils than divorce. The influence of a house +divided against itself, the surcharged atmosphere of deceit and +degrading quarrels cannot fail to impregnate a child's mind, and +probably at a time when character is being formed.</p> + +<p>It is a lucky thing for the honour of the family that the actor is not +less scrupulous. "They who kiss and run away may live to kiss another +day" is probably indicative of the worst of his peccadillos. He takes +the goods the gods provide and credits so much popularity unto his +irresistible self. If occasionally he is "caught with the goods" it +makes good copy for the yellows. Incidentally it advertises the actor. +The woman pays the piper. "What's sauce for the goose is sauce for the +gander" is likely to remain a nebulous supposition.</p> + +<p class="ast">* * * *</p> + +<p>There is only one Chicago. Other cities—Pittsburgh and Cincinnati +notably—may be commonplace or vulgar, but Chicago is the epitome of +commonplace vulgarity. It struck<a name="page_164" id="page_164"></a> me forcibly as I looked over the +first-night audience. The men are commonplace; the women vulgar. The +women impress one as ex-waitresses from cheap eating houses or +sales-"ladies" who have married well. Few of the male population appear +to own a dress-suit. The women wear ready-made suits with picture hats +and a plentiful sprinkling of gaudy jewelry. Some of them "make-up" +atrociously. Their manners are as breezy as the wind from the lake and +they "make you one of them" the first time you meet. If there is a +cultured set in Chicago the actor never meets them; it probably resides +in Chicago through force of circumstances, not through choice. The +middle class is super-commonplace. The smart set isn't smart; only fast +and loose. Chicago is a good "show-town." It might be better if managers +kept their word to send out the original companies. The Western +metropolis resents a slight to its dignity.</p> + +<p>Will's management, therefore, played a trump card when it sent the New +York production and players. The house was sold out for weeks in +advance. It was evidenced on the opening night that Will had left a good +impression in Chicago from former visits. He received a<a name="page_165" id="page_165"></a> hand on his +entrance. When a supporting actor is thus remembered it proves his +popularity.</p> + +<p>After the performance we went to the College Inn with some friends of +Will's. Everybody who is <i>anybody</i> goes to that ill-ventilated hole +below stairs; one gets a sort of <i>revue</i> of the town's follies. Chicago +is hopelessly provincial. There is a profound intimacy with other +people's affairs. Such purveyors of privacy as the Clubfellow and Town +Topics must find it no easy matter to get copy which is not already +common property, with the edge taken off. Our host and hostess of the +evening kept up a running fire of gossip concerning the people about us.</p> + +<p>At a table near-by sat a gross looking woman with a combative eye. Her +escort was a pliable, colourless youth, who, I assumed, was her son. +This person was on bowing terms with many of the <i>habitués</i> of the Inn. +A number of actors lingered at her table and laughed effectively at her +sallies. When Will told me she was a certain female critic on a Chicago +newspaper I understood the homage paid her. I did not understand, +however, her reason for marrying the youth I assumed was her son.<a name="page_166" id="page_166"></a> Our +hostess said something about the "grateful age" which I didn't +understand. The lady critic wrote with a venomous pen when mood or +grudge impelled her. Many an actor writhed under her lashes. It was +rumoured, however, that her bark was a great deal worse than her bite +and that if one approached her "in the right way" "she would eat out of +your hand."</p> + +<p>Ever since a person revelling under a euphonious <i>nom de plume</i>, which +recalls to mind the romantic days of Robin Hood, perverted the function +of dramatic criticism, imitators have sprung up all over the country. +"Imitation is the truest flattery." To be caustically funny at the +expense of truth, to deal in impudent personalia, to lose one's dignity +in belittling that of others is the construction of the gentle art of +criticism which American reviewers reserve unto themselves.</p> + +<p>Will's friends were a convivial lot. Before the evening was over our +party had been considerably augmented. Each newcomer added another round +of drinks. "Have one with me" is a strictly American characteristic. +When we broke up I had a handful of cards and a confused list of tea, +dinner and supper engagements.<a name="page_167" id="page_167"></a> Fortunately I was not the only one to +get mixed. Several of the whilom hostesses simplified matters by +forgetting the invitations they had extended.</p> + +<p>While we were waiting for the automobile one of the women chaffed Will +in the following manner: "Why, you sly, handsome pup! You never told me +you were married when you were here before."</p> + +<p>"I supposed you knew," was Will's response.</p> + +<p>"O, you did! Um! I never say anything about being married, either, when +I go away for a lark.... Never mind, I'll forgive you if you'll call me +up. Where are you stopping? How long is your wife going to be in town?" +The rest was drowned in the approach of the car.</p> + +<p>We did not go to Mamma Heward's this time. Heretofore when Will played +Chicago we had lived at a theatrical boarding-house kept by a dear +little old Scotch lady. Her's was one of the few good ones throughout +the country. Unfortunately one had to take a long trolley ride to reach +her house and Will's performances ended late. Then, too, he had heard +that the table had gone off and that the<a name="page_168" id="page_168"></a> service was inadequate. I +imagine, however, that Will felt he had outgrown the boarding-house +days. He decided upon a family hotel on the north side.</p> + +<p>During the week I called on Mamma Heward and took Boy with me. It was +the first time she had seen him and she raved over him sufficiently to +satisfy even a young mother's vanity. She enquired after Will and had +kept in touch with his progress. She had always been fond of him and had +dubbed him Bobby Burns, whom he somewhat resembled. I saw she felt hurt +by our apparent desertion and tried to assure her that we should be much +happier and more comfortable with her; that if it were not for the +distance from the theatre——</p> + +<p>The dear little old lady patted my hand as if to spare me further +dissemblance.</p> + +<p>"That's the excuse they all give, but it's no farther than ever it was +and the theatres are as near as ever they were," she said sadly, the +Scotch burr falling musically upon the ear. "It isn't that.... They're +forgetting me now they're getting up in the world. It didn't use to be +too far when they couldn't pay more than eight or ten dollars a week for +<a name="page_169" id="page_169"></a>their board ... and the little suppers Mamma had waiting for them after +the theatre...."</p> + +<p>She sighed but there was no trace of bitterness. "It's what you must +expect when you get old and worn out.... It's the way of the world and +God was always harder on women than he is on men."</p> + +<p>There was no answer I could make; I could not have spoken had there been +anything to say. I felt choked and on the verge of tears. It was all so +pitiful. There was an air of desolation about the place. The warmth +which prosperity radiates was no longer evident. Where formerly there +had been leading players, even a star or two, now there were only the +lower ranks, and but few of them. Nothing remained of the good old days +save the rows and rows of photographs which lined the walls, all of them +autographed and inscribed "With love, to Mamma Heward." Arm in arm we +reviewed this galaxy of players.</p> + +<p>"There is ——," she said, stopping in front of a well-known actor. "And +that's his first wife. She was a dear, good girl. I'm afraid Herbert +didn't treat her as well as he should. Many's the time she has cried out +her heart<a name="page_170" id="page_170"></a> in Mamma's arms.... She's married again—no, not an +actor—and she's got two boys, the littlest one the size of yours.... +Now could you ever guess who that is? Yes, that's —— when he was leading +man with Modjeska. The women were crazy about him.... And he was a +dear—such a kind-hearted man. I remember once how he kept the furnace +going when our man got drunk and disappeared for three days. If only I +had a picture of him shovelling in coal—his sleeves rolled up and +spouting Macbeth at the top of his lungs.... Dear old Morry! He was his +own worst enemy...."</p> + +<p>She sighed heavily over the actor's bad end. "And there! Do you +recognize that? And isn't the boy the livin' image of his father?"</p> + +<p>I looked more closely at the photograph. Boy's resemblance to his father +was even more clearly marked in some of Will's earlier pictures.</p> + +<p>"Do you remember the first time you came to me? You hadn't been married +long. You had a dog, a bull terrier pup. Let me think, now, what was his +name? Yes, Billy, that's it! And do you mind how ye locked him up in +your bathroom when you went to the theatre<a name="page_171" id="page_171"></a> and how he ate the matting +off the floor while ye was gone?"</p> + +<p>We both laughed at the recollection, though I had not laughed at the +time. I was in fear lest Billy be relegated to the cellar where he would +cry out his puppy heart. But Mamma Heward was never in a bad humour. She +was all kindness and consideration ... and now she was getting old and +could no longer please an exacting clientèle. The cost of living had +gone up; rents were higher; but the little old lady could get no more +for her rooms. To make both ends meet she dispensed first with one +servant, then with another, until she and one frail daughter shared the +entire work of the house. It was no easy matter to cook and serve a +dozen breakfasts in the rooms at any and all hours; to cater and prepare +meals and then to wait up until midnight that the players might have a +hot supper after the performance. How many of those whom she had tided +over the hard times, how many who had "stood her up" for a board bill, +or whom she had nursed in times of illness, remembered her now in her +time of need?</p> + +<p>"I'm not finding fault," she said softly, breaking a long silence while +we looked beyond<a name="page_172" id="page_172"></a> the pictures. "I don't blame them for not coming here +to live ... only—I wish they'd drop in to see me sometimes when they +come to town, just for auld lang syne...."</p> + +<p>When I told Will of my visit he looked very serious. I am sure he felt +sorry we had not gone back to her. The next day we went together to see +her. Will took her a bottle of port wine. Later he sent her two seats +for the performance and I promised her that the next time we came to +Chicago we should stay with her, even if Will were a star....<a name="page_173" id="page_173"></a></p> + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X</h3> + +<p class="nind">W<small>ILL'S</small> friends certainly provided one continual round of pleasure, if +dissipation may be classed under that head. I was brought to wonder how +they found time for "the petty round of irritating concerns and duties" +of life. They appeared always to be dining or lunching out. One met them +in the various restaurants at all hours, drinking round upon round of +cocktails, and polishing them off with cognac. The Pompeian room at the +Annex between five and six in the afternoon is Chicago typified. The +artistic gentleman who conceived the decorative scheme of the Pompeian +room had a sly sense of the eternal fitness of things. He also knew his +Chicago. The great bacchic amphoræ—copies of those classic receptacles +utilized as relief stations by old Romans who had wined too well—are +concrete reminders of his sense of humour. I have seen more women in +Chicago under the influence of liquor than in any other city in the +world. This probably<a name="page_174" id="page_174"></a> accounts for their low standard of morality as +well as for the emotional debauches in which they indulge.</p> + +<p>There was one couple typical of the class of high-flyers in which +Chicago abounds. The husband was a throat specialist with a splendid +practice. He was popular among stage-folk. Will had met the doctor and +his wife during a former engagement. The wife expressed herself as +"strong for" Will. Scarcely a day passed without a telephone message or +a call from Mrs. Pease. She would drop in at the most inopportune times. +"Don't mind me," she would say, settling herself comfortably. "I've seen +gentlemen in dressing-gowns before. That red is very becoming to your +peculiar style of beauty, sir. Nothing if not artistic."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Pease was a tall woman, built on the slab style. She affected +mannish tailormades and heavy boots. When she sat down she invariably +crossed her legs. The extremities she exhibited were not prepossessing. +She was also expert in innuendo and <i>double entente</i>. She flirted +outrageously with Will and made me feel like the person in the song, +"Always in the way." In fact I came to the conclusion that wherever we +went I was accepted as a<a name="page_175" id="page_175"></a> necessary evil—among the women. There was +always a "pairing off" after dinner or supper; surreptitious +<i>rendezvous</i> in the obscure cosey corners; <i>sotto voce</i> conversations, +not intended for my ears. I found myself getting the habit of talking +stupid nonsense with persons in whom I was not interested, simply to +cover the follies of the others.</p> + +<p>The men flattered me. Flattery is a habit with men; they think most +women expect it—and they do. After a little practice a woman can tell +to a certainty just what a man is going to say under certain conditions. +How can any one be flattered by the saccharine platitudes which are +ground out automatically like chewing-gum from a slot-machine? So few +women have a sense of humour. They have less self-respect.</p> + +<p>Chicago lake-wind claimed me for a victim. I came down with a bad +throat. Will insisted upon my consulting his physician friend. He was a +handsome chap—this popular Doctor Pease—as blonde as Will was dark, +but already marked with the ravages of dissipation. He had a genial +raillery which made it almost impossible to take him seriously. I did +not know whether it was a part of the treatment<a name="page_176" id="page_176"></a> to unbare my throat and +shoulders and sound my lungs and to let his hand linger on the uncovered +flesh, but I didn't like it. Neither did I believe my age, my weight and +my bust measure had any connection with my throat trouble. Of course I +didn't tell Will anything about it, but the next time I needed treatment +I asked him to accompany me. Will liked the doctor, so I kept my own +counsel.</p> + +<p>One noon-day Mrs. Pease telephoned that they were going off on a motor +trip for a tour of the country clubs, at one of which they had planned +to dine. They wanted me to join them and after the matinée they would +send a car to pick up Will, and return him in time for the evening +performance. I told Will I did not want to go, giving the excuse that my +throat was still sore. Mrs. Pease answered that the doctor said the air +would do me good and that he would be responsible for me. I endeavoured +to compromise by promising to meet them at the theatre after the matinée +when they picked up Will, but the doctor himself came to the 'phone and +Will decided for me.</p> + +<p>When the telephone announced the arrival of the party I went down to the +reception<a name="page_177" id="page_177"></a> room, where I found the doctor awaiting me. He bundled me +into my great fur coat and insisted upon my wearing a fur cap his wife +had sent me. He cautioned me to wrap up well, as the car was an open +one. When we went out, as I supposed, to join the others, I was +surprised to find that the doctor was alone.</p> + +<p>"The rest of them have gone on ahead," he answered my enquiring look. "I +was detained at the office and told them not to wait on us. We'll +overtake them if the car is in good shape."</p> + +<p>I felt strangely uncomfortable as I took my seat beside him in the +racing machine. He secured the robes about me with his easy familiarity +and tucked me in with a good deal of care. As he seated himself at the +wheel and drew on his gloves he smiled at me and asked whether I was +timid. He said he made it a rule to kiss a woman whenever she screamed. +That was not a propitious beginning, I thought. The doctor drove +skillfully, although recklessly.</p> + +<p>The boulevard system of Chicago is an excellent one. We covered miles of +smooth paving, from which the snow had been removed, before we reached +the country roads. After<a name="page_178" id="page_178"></a> he had "let her out a bit" and showed me what +she could do, he slowed up and turned to me with a little laugh, "That's +going some, isn't it?" It struck me at the time that "going some" was +probably the motto on the city's escutcheon. Everybody wants to be +faster than everybody else.</p> + +<p>The air <i>was</i> exhilarating. My face tingled from the contact with the +wind. The doctor's glances made me uncomfortable. "You look like a +rosy-cheeked boy," he said. "I'd like to bite you." I silently thanked +the stars the car was an open one.</p> + +<p>Farther on we stopped at a country club. The doctor said it was a long +time between drinks. As we drove into the club-grounds I noticed another +motor under the shed. I hoped it might belong to other members of the +party. The doctor made straight for the shed. When I looked at the deep +snow, and only a narrow path cleared to the club house, I apprehended +some silliness on the part of my host.</p> + +<p>Disregarding his suggestion to sit still while he put up his machine, I +climbed down and picked my way over the slippery path. I had not gone +far when the doctor overtook me and,<a name="page_179" id="page_179"></a> seizing me from behind, lifted me +in his arms. Not even the presence of the men shovelling snow prevented. +My first impulse was to free myself, and I believe I administered a kick +or two. The more I remonstrated the more he laughed. The picture of +making a ridiculous show of myself made me submit to being carried the +rest of the way.</p> + +<p>After ushering me into the living-room the doctor had the good sense to +leave me alone for a while. By the time he appeared I had sufficiently +recovered my equilibrium to receive him frostily. My dignity was lost on +him. He pulled up a great armchair in front of the roaring fire and bade +me drink the hot scotch the waiter at that moment brought in. A subdued +titter from an obscure corner of the room sent the doctor in search of +other occupants. He discovered them behind a screen.</p> + +<p>"Aha!" he greeted them in mock-seriousness. "Discovered!"</p> + +<p>"Stung"; responded a masculine voice. "So this is why you wouldn't join +our party, eh? You sneaked off by yourselves. I didn't think anybody but +me would have the nerve to try this place so soon after the snow-storm."</p> + +<p>"Neither did we!"<a name="page_180" id="page_180"></a></p> + +<p>"For Heaven's sake don't give us away, will you?" It was the woman who +spoke.... "Who've you got with you?" she added in a lower tone.</p> + +<p>"O, a little friend of mine," answered the doctor. "Come over and meet +her. I think you know her husband—Hartley, the actor."</p> + +<p>I fear the couple whose <i>rendezvous</i> we had discovered were not +impressed with the popular actor's wife. My conversation was limited to +monosyllables. The omission, I fancy, was not serious. They had their +own topic of conversation. It revolved chiefly around the tenth +commandment. In fact, one might conclude with perfect assurance that the +seventh and the last of the commandments are the <i>raison d'être</i> of all +conversation among that set.... I lost count of the drinks. The doctor +said that in the future he would provide Maraschino cherries by the +bottle for my especial delectation.</p> + +<p>When we left the club it was dark. The doctor's friends went at the same +time. They had a chauffeur. The doctor's bloodshot eyes made me wish we, +too, had one. The cold air, happily, set him right. He drove more<a name="page_181" id="page_181"></a> +carefully than earlier in the day. Perhaps he recognized his own +condition. Once he slowed down and looked at his watch.</p> + +<p>"We're going to be late," he said. "I've half a mind to telephone that +we've picked up a puncture and have gone back to town for repairs. What +do you say?" He appeared to be turning the matter over in his mind, but +I could see that he was not taking me into consideration.</p> + +<p>"No, we can't do that," I said without too much emphasis. "Mr. Hartley +would be worried."</p> + +<p>He smiled at me as he replaced his watch. "Yes, I guess you're right; it +will have to wait until some other time." He patted the covers above my +lap. "Little Girl," he murmured, rather too tenderly. I was glad I could +not see his eyes. The car shot ahead. For the next half hour I had a +bewildering sense of flying over the snow-clad earth, coming now and +then in contact with it as the car struck a rut. The lights, striking +against the stalactited branches of the trees and foliage, scintillated +like the tiara of a comic-opera star—or the Diamond Horseshoe on +society night at the Metropolitan.<a name="page_182" id="page_182"></a></p> + +<p>We were the last ones to arrive at the country club where we were to +dine. This time the doctor dropped me at the door. Someone was drumming +the piano as I came in. By the time I had taken off my wraps the doctor +joined me. There was a general noisy greeting when we entered the great +hall. Nearly all of the women I had met before. "I thought the doctor +had smashed you up," one of them said. "Or punctured a tire and gone +back to town," another added, giving the doctor a broad wink.</p> + +<p>"Leila's gone back to town to get Mr. Hartley," volunteered someone +else. (Leila was Mrs. Pease.)</p> + +<p>I settled myself in a niche of the chimney-seat, hoping to thaw out +eventually. I was chilled to the very depths of my being, and it was not +altogether physical. There were lots and lots of cocktails before +dinner. Judging from the spirits of the company there had been a few +before we arrived. When I heard that Mrs. Pease herself was driving the +car in which she had gone to fetch Will, I had visions of his being +dumped into a snow-bank or of colliding with a trolley. It seemed an +interminable time until they appeared. We had<a name="page_183" id="page_183"></a> reached the entrée. There +was a noisy greeting and a round of sallies.</p> + +<p>"Explain yourself!"</p> + +<p>"We thought you'd eloped or got locked up for speeding!"</p> + +<p>"Stopped on the road, I'll bet," said the doctor, who had risen and +grasped Will's hand. Will waved to me across the table.</p> + +<p>"O, you actor!" came from the woman at my right but one. I recognized +the person who had reproved Will after the supper at the College Inn on +the opening night.</p> + +<p>When the champagne was served Will raised his glass to me.</p> + +<p>"Drink it—it won't hurt you; you look tired," he said, in a stage +whisper.</p> + +<p>"Stop flirting with your wife!" remonstrated Mrs. Pease. "Doc—<i>Doc</i>!" +(The doctor was busy with a little blonde lady on the left.) He turned +enquiringly to his wife's bleat. "You're neglecting your patient. +Handsome Willy here says his wife is pale and wants to know what you've +been doing to her!"</p> + +<p>The doctor leaned over me solicitously. "Never mind—I'm the doctor." +For the rest of the meal he devoted himself to me.</p> + +<p>During the dinner a party of five came in<a name="page_184" id="page_184"></a> and sat at another table. Two +of them proved to be the couple we had met at the other country club. +The man winked discreetly to the doctor.</p> + +<p>"Ye gods!" exclaimed the woman at my left but one. "It's Sid!—and I'm +supposed to be home, sick in bed with a headache!"</p> + +<p>She looked at the man I had met and I assumed he was "Sid." "Damn such a +town, anyway, where you can't go out without running into your own +husband. Doc, who's he got with him?" She leered across the room at +"Sid's" good-looking companions.</p> + +<p>"Never mind, Bell," soothed the doctor, "neither of you have got +anything on the other."</p> + +<p>Bell blew him a kiss. "Dear old pain-killer!" she purred.</p> + +<p>A little later "Sid" came over to the table and the doctor joined the +other party. Sid's wife started to introduce him to me.</p> + +<p>"I've met the lady," he interrupted, not giving me credit for any +discretion.</p> + +<p>"O, you have," she said in an unpleasant tone.</p> + +<p>As he passed on behind her chair he said to<a name="page_185" id="page_185"></a> her <i>sotto voce</i>, +"Headache, eh? I like the way you lie."</p> + +<p>"O, you go to hell!" was the gentle rejoinder. There was still a trace +of the anger which illuminated her bleary eyes when she turned to me. +"What do you think of him trying to put it over me?"</p> + +<p>She steered back to the subject which was on her mind. Where had I met +her husband and when? I told her I didn't recall—that he was probably +mistaken. She knew I was lying. I am sure I don't know why I did it.</p> + +<p>Someone started telling funny stories. They were not really funny; only +smutty. The women were more daring than the men. Will always declared +that women were "whole hoggers" when once they started. I presume they +labour under the impression that it is sporty or that it pleases the men +"to go them one better." Ever since Eve was made for Adam's pleasure the +female sex has been as pliable as the original mixture of mud and a +floating rib. Women, generally, are what men want them to be....</p> + +<p>As time went by I began to fret lest Will be late for the evening +performance. Finally I caught his eye and he understood my message.<a name="page_186" id="page_186"></a> He +looked at his watch and jumped to his feet. "Doc, what's the best time +your machine can make? I've got precisely twenty minutes before the +curtain goes up."</p> + +<p>"I'll get you there," answered the doctor as he left the table.</p> + +<p>"I'll drive him in," called the doctor's wife.</p> + +<p>"No, I guess not!" he answered over his shoulder. I devoutly, if mutely, +thanked heaven. I am sure the doctor realized that his wife was "three +sheets to the wind"—to use Will's favourite expression.</p> + +<p>I made my adieus and rose to follow Will.</p> + +<p>"Where are you going?" called Mrs. Pease. "No, you don't—you don't +shake us like this! Willy, tell your wife to sit down and behave +herself." In vain I expostulated that I must go back to the baby. "Never +mind the kiddie; he's asleep and don't even know he's got a mother." She +followed us into the hall where the doctor and Will were hurrying into +their fur coats.</p> + +<p>"You can't go this trip, little lady," and the doctor pushed me out of +the draughty doorway. "There's no room in the car and we're going to +ride like hell." I appealed mutely to Will, who drew me aside.<a name="page_187" id="page_187"></a></p> + +<p>"Stick it out a little longer, girlie. They'll feel hurt if you don't. +You can telephone to the hotel if you're anxious about the boy." He +kissed me lightly. I felt on the verge of rebellion.</p> + +<p>"Shall you be late?" I managed.</p> + +<p>"No—unless something breaks down on the way. I'm not on until after the +rise, and if necessary I'll go on without my make-up."</p> + +<p>"Come on, Hartley!" The doctor was already at the wheel. We watched them +spurt ahead.</p> + +<p>"I hope your husband's insured," gurgled one of the women.... I felt +sick and wretched. I wanted to go home, even if it were only a hotel +room. Home was where Boy was. I had a wild impulse of stealing out +unnoticed and asking my way to the nearest trolley line. Then I +remembered I had not a cent in my purse.</p> + +<p>The return of the doctor relieved my mind as to Will's safe arrival. I +comforted myself with the thought that the party would soon break up. +The diners across the room had joined us before the return of the +doctor. There was another round of liqueurs and at last someone moved to +break up. "Sid's" wife,<a name="page_188" id="page_188"></a> whose tongue was getting thick, suggested that +we all go for a drive and end up by having supper at Rector's. There was +general acquiescence. "Let's make a night of it," was the slogan.</p> + +<p>While the others were dividing themselves to suit the accommodation of +the various automobiles, Mrs. Pease and I went to the dressing-room. +"Lord! Don't I look a sight?" she exclaimed, scanning her reflection in +the mirror. "That's the worst of booze; it makes me white around the +gills." She daubed on a bit of rouge and patted it over with a powder +puff. I took advantage of our tête-à-tête and asked her if she would be +so good as to arrange to drop me at my hotel on the way back.</p> + +<p>"Why, my dear, you're not going home yet; you're going right along with +us."</p> + +<p>"I really must not.... Mr. Hartley wouldn't approve, I know. I have not +been well and——"</p> + +<p>"Rot! You leave that to the doctor. He'll stop and leave a note at the +theatre.... Doc! <i>Doc!</i> Come here...." The doctor peeped in the doorway.</p> + +<p>"O, come in—we're only powdering our noses," Mrs. Pease called to him. +"Say, look<a name="page_189" id="page_189"></a> here! Mrs. H. thinks hubby might not approve of her going on +with us——"</p> + +<p>"I didn't mean—" I began.</p> + +<p>"I tell her you'll fix it up with him," she interrupted.</p> + +<p>"It's fixed—long ago. I told your husband we'd come for him after the +show. He'll want a bite to eat anyway, and why not be sociable? He told +me to tell you to be a good little sport and wait for him." He laid an +arm around my shoulders and Mrs. Pease, still busy in front of the +mirror, laughed in mock seriousness.</p> + +<p>"O, don't mind me!"</p> + +<p>"Did Mr. Hartley—did my husband say he expected me to wait?"</p> + +<p>"Sure Mike," broke in Mrs. Pease. "Doc, you go pilot that bunch so they +don't butt into my preserves. Saidee is soused, and when Saidee gets +soused she gets nasty drunk." The doctor disappeared. "I can't stand for +women who don't know their capacity," Mrs. Pease continued, working on +her complexion. "You're a wise little gazabo to go slow on the fizz. I +watched you to-night, and the way you manipulated the glasses was a +scream.... Do you know you made a great hit with the doctor?<a name="page_190" id="page_190"></a> You're +just his style—dark eyes, full bust and not 'higher than his heart.' +... O, I'm not jealous! The Doc and I are on to each other." She winked +at me and led the way to the hall.</p> + +<p>"On to each other." ... I mulled over the expression as I watched +husbands and wives pairing off with and showing their preference for +someone else. Everybody seemed to be "on to each other." It was a game +of <i>stalemates</i>.</p> + +<p>I drove back with the doctor. There was no way out of it without making +a scene. "Sid" and the doctor engaged in a brush along the road. The +reckless speeding fitted in with my mood. There were moments when I +almost wished that something would break and land me with some broken +bones, if nothing more. I was smarting under Will's obvious lack of +consideration; He knew the atmosphere was not a congenial one, yet he +sacrificed me to it without hesitation. I wanted with all my heart to +have him popular and sought after; I was willing to play the game—up to +a certain point. But when the game entailed a loss of self-respect, of +confidence, or of equivocation with one's better instincts, there I drew +the line. It ceased to be worth the candle.<a name="page_191" id="page_191"></a></p> + +<p>I could no longer shut my eyes to the encroachments upon our happiness +the very exigencies of his profession demanded. My passionate and +childish efforts at blind man's buff were not convincing. The time had +come when my husband and I must have a complete understanding. I must +make clear to him how I felt. After that, if he were still blind to the +dangers which threatened our life—no, I would not dwell on such a +contingency. I felt sure Will would see things at their true valuation. +For the first time that day I settled back to something approaching a +state of composure. One always feels less perturbed after determining +upon a course of action. I resolved to see the evening through with as +much equanimity as possible. There was something grimly humorous about +the situation: if Will really wanted to make a sport of me I was +"cutting my eye-teeth" with a vengeance.</p> + +<p>So engaged was I with my own thoughts I had not noticed that we had +slowed up. Coincidentally the car came to a stop. The doctor rose to his +feet and looked behind him.</p> + +<p>"Anything wrong?" I questioned.</p> + +<p>"No; I only wanted to make sure the coast was clear."<a name="page_192" id="page_192"></a></p> + +<p>He knelt with one knee on the seat and pulled the robe about me from +behind. With his free hand he raised my face close to his, and held me +there.</p> + +<p>"I'm going to have one kiss from those luscious lips—if it takes a +leg," he said.</p> + +<p>The doctor was a strong man. Will had often remarked that no one would +suspect me of having so much strength. Yet I was a mere child in the +doctor's hands. He pinioned my arms beneath the weight of his body. He +kept his lips on mine until the strength oozed out of my finger-tips +from sheer suffocation. When he raised his head it was only to look at +me and breathing hard again to fasten himself upon me with a fiercer +tremor which shook his whole frame.... Only once or twice in all our +married life had Will kissed me like that. I had believed it an +expression of purest love. I realized now that it connoted other +emotions less pure.... "Baby! Baby!... Put your arms around my neck.... +You haven't fainted, have you?" ... He lifted me to my feet. I could not +repress a hysterical sob. "There—that's better! I didn't mean to be so +rough, but I'm mad about you. You drive me crazy! Kiss me of your own +free will...."<a name="page_193" id="page_193"></a></p> + +<p>I succeeded in holding him back while I looked him in the eyes, +struggling to express what my lips refused to say.... "O ... O...." I +finally stammered. "Is it right?... Do you think it's right?..."</p> + +<p>Wholly misconstruing my words, he strained me to him and kissed me more +tenderly, endeavouring to soothe me. "Right? Little boy, who the devil +cares whether it's right or not! It's nice, isn't it? Don't you love +it?"</p> + +<p>"My husband ... do you think it's right to him?..."</p> + +<p>Something of the disgust I felt must have pierced him, for he released +me with a change of expression.</p> + +<p>"O, come now—don't spring that old gag on your friend the Doc.... What +do you care as long as he doesn't get on to it?... You know as well as I +do that a good-looking fellow in his profession has it thrown at him +from all sides. You don't think he turns 'em <i>all</i> down, do you? You've +got too much sense for that.... Come on, now ... let's understand each +other.... You're as safe with me as a babe on its mother's breast.... +<a name="page_194" id="page_194"></a>I'll call you up on Saturday and we'll go off some place together ... +where we can talk it over.... God, Baby! I'm crazy about you!..."</p> + +<p class="ast">* * * *</p> + +<p>When Will and I walked into our rooms at the hotel the little travelling +clock on my bureau pointed the hour of three. I slipped out of the fur +coat the doctor had loaned me and left it in a heap upon the floor. I +don't know how long I stood contemplating space.... Then I heard him +cross the room and pick up the coat. I felt his eyes fastened upon me. I +roused myself and went into the bedroom, where I began to take down my +hair in front of the mirror. Will followed me and I saw that he was +watching me in the glass. After a moment he spoke to me.</p> + +<p>"Girlie ..." his voice was kind.... "You'll have to learn to gauge your +capacity.... You're not a tank like the rest of the crowd.... Look at +your face; it's as red as a red, red rose—and has been all evening."</p> + +<p>He patted me on the arm and went into the bathroom. I felt as if I were +going to shriek.... <i>Will thought I was drunk....</i> I<a name="page_195" id="page_195"></a> looked at myself +in the glass.... My face was drawn and there were red burning spots in +my cheeks.... My eyes peered but like two burnt holes in a blanket.... +Yes, it was plain to see that I was not myself.... I smothered a burst +of hysterical laughter.... I started toward the bathroom where Will was +preparing for bed. I intended to tell him that in all, during the entire +day, I had taken only one glass of champagne—and that at his +request.... Then I stopped. I did not dare to trust myself.... I knew he +would laugh and pet me and say he had not meant to criticize and then he +would take me in his arms ... and I would cry it all out upon his +heart.... I would tell him the whole miserable experience ... and he ... +what would <i>he</i> do? If he called the doctor to account there would be a +scandal.... It would be degrading.... I could never endure it.... <i>And +if he did not call the Doctor to account—if he merely cut him without +demanding satisfaction</i>, I should <i>despise</i> him—I should <i>hate</i> him.... +"O, yes you would—you <i>know</i> you would, though you wouldn't acknowledge +<a name="page_196" id="page_196"></a>it even to yourself" ... it was Miss Burton's voice.... "Take my +advice—better not tell him at all." I switched off the light, so that +Will could not see my face....</p> + +<p class="ast">* * * *</p> + +<p><a name="page_197" id="page_197"></a></p> + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI</h3> + +<p class="nind">I <small>REVELLED</small> in the heavy cold which kept me indoors. No amount of urging +or cajoling on the part of my husband could induce me to see the doctor. +Were I to express a preference for some other physician, Will's +suspicions might be aroused. Experience applied old-fashioned remedies +and in a few days I was able to be about the room. Mrs. Pease telephoned +daily and called several times in person. Will saw her, but Experience +had been instructed that I could see no one. During my retirement I had +turned things over in my mind, arguing <i>pro</i> and <i>con</i> the advisability +of a thorough understanding with Will. It appeared to me that the danger +of such a proceeding lay in the tearing down of barriers which could +never again be replaced—a rending aside of all illusion between us. +Heretofore I had refrained from any expression of animadversion of his +profession or his conduct. If he suspected any dissatisfaction on my +part he preferred to let it pass without comment.<a name="page_198" id="page_198"></a></p> + +<p>Spasmodically he indulged in bursts of confidence—confidences of the +kind not calculated to improve my opinion of his profession. At such +times he appeared fully to appreciate the corroding atmosphere in which +he lived. He even contemplated retiring from the stage. These phases +were rare, however, generally attending a disappointment in a rôle, +discontent with an engagement or unfavourable criticism of his work. The +mood soon passed and he appeared to be content with the ephemeral joys +of the moment.</p> + +<p>The longer I brooded over the subject the less sure I became of any good +to be attained by a frank expression of my mind. Were I to eliminate all +circumlocution and say: "My husband, there is something fundamentally +wrong with a profession which demands a compromise with one's best +instincts," or "the class of people with which you come in daily contact +make for your ultimate degradation," or, again, "I do not approve of +your petty deceits, the complacency with which you accept moral +obliquity, the low standard which permeates our entire life," this would +call for amplification, an indulgence in personalities which could +result only in a greater breach between us. I<a name="page_199" id="page_199"></a> might even be accused of +jealousy, inconsideration for his future, and a lack of faith in the +man.</p> + +<p>It had often occurred to me that there was such a thing as too great +intimacy, a too careless frankness between husband and wife! A lack of +reserve which ended in a secret contempt for each other's weaknesses. To +be tolerant of and to respect these weaknesses while striving to +stimulate the best in each other's nature; in short, to be a complement, +each to the other, this appeared to me the basic principle of marriage. +And as I had done in the past I again fell back upon my inner self. I +wanted, O, I so wanted to develop the best that was in him ... and there +was much, nearly all of him was good. The danger lay in environment....</p> + +<p>One day—it was a week later that Will had planned to dine at the Press +Club—I lay on the couch watching Boy. He sat on a fur rug on the floor, +playing with Snyder. Experience had gone down to an early dinner. There +was a knock on the door. I called out, "Come in." It was the doctor.</p> + +<p>"I took advantage of my professional capacity and came up unannounced," +he said, easily,<a name="page_200" id="page_200"></a> without directly looking at me. He removed his coat +and tickled Boy's face with the tail of the fur lining. Boy drew up his +nose and laughed at the sensation, and the doctor dropped the coat upon +the floor for him to play with. Then he squatted beside him while Boy +stroked the fur and called it "cat." For several minutes the doctor +busied himself with the child, deploring the deformities of Snyder and +imitating a dog's bark.</p> + +<p>"Great boy, that!" he concluded, rising to his feet and taking a long +breath.</p> + +<p>"Now, then, tell me all about it," he said, drawing up a chair in a +purely professional manner and looking at me without a trace of +self-consciousness. "You're pale; that's what you get for not sending +for the doc. How's your pulse?" He reached for my hand and held it +regardless of my frowning face.... "Rotten ... you need a tonic. I'll +write a prescription right off." There was silence while he wrote. Then +he rose, placed the slip of paper on the table, tossed the boy in the +air and crossed back, looking down at me with his hands in his pockets.</p> + +<p>"Well, little girl, what have you got to say for yourself?... I suppose +<a name="page_201" id="page_201"></a>you're still sore on me ... forget it and forgive. I apologize. I acted +like a beast, I know.... It was the booze. It got the better of my +judgment. Just the same, <i>in vino veritas</i>, I was most terribly stuck on +you—and still am—no, sit still! I'm cold sober.... I thought, of +course, you were like the rest.... Come, shake hands with me and say all +is forgiven. I saw your husband to-day and he told me to come and see +you.... I knew then that it was all right.... I felt sure you had too +much common sense to tell hubby.... When are you coming out of the +nunnery?..." He threw himself into the chair and smiled genially. I was +holding fast to something he had said: "I thought of course you were +like the rest." ...</p> + +<p>"Doctor, will you answer me a question—truthfully, I mean?"</p> + +<p>"I will if I can," he flashed back at me.</p> + +<p>"You said a few minutes since that you had thought me like the rest. Who +did you mean by 'the rest'—women as a class—the class you go about +with—or the women of the stage?"</p> + +<p>"Well ... if you want the honest truth—I had actresses in mind when I +spoke."</p> + +<p>"You believe actresses are any worse, even<a name="page_202" id="page_202"></a> as bad, as the women I met +at dinner last week?"</p> + +<p>"Um ... ye-s ... I think actresses would go farther."</p> + +<p>"<i>Go farther!</i>"</p> + +<p>"Yes. None of these women—at least not many of them—you've met would +really go the limit. They do a good deal of playing around the edge, but +it's only once in a while they get into a scrape.... Look here! I don't +hold a brief for judging the relative virtues of women. I don't blame +anybody for squeezing all the enjoyment they can out of life—for you +don't know what's coming hereafter."</p> + +<p>The doctor showed signs of irritation....</p> + +<p>A sound from Boy suggested my next remark.</p> + +<p>"Suppose one has children?"</p> + +<p>"That's a horse of another colour.... Though when you come right down to +it I don't see that a family cuts much ice. Children are for the most +part accidents. They just happen. Their conception is the result of +carelessness or laziness. Their ultimate arrival is accepted a good deal +like a deluge or a fire; you do everything you can to stop it—to the +verge of self-destruction—then you throw up your<a name="page_203" id="page_203"></a> hands and accept the +inevitable. There isn't one love child in a million. I mean a child of +love in the sense of premeditated and welcome conception. Men and women +marry for one of a half dozen reasons, most commonly because they +believe they are in love. When the honeymoon wanes and you get right +down to commonplace, every-day life in all its ugliness, we begin to +feet that we've been buncoed. If we are truthful with ourselves we +acknowledge a share of the bunco game. Way back in our subconscious mind +the sensation of our courtship, the pursuit and the first mad moments of +possession have stuck fast.... We fairly throb at the thought of them. +We begin to hanker for a repetition of these sensuous dope-dreams.... +Presently we are off hot for the chase ... and a little dash of the +forbidden fruit acts as a stimulant. Like all stimulants it becomes +necessary to increase the dose after a while to insure efficacy. That's +where we begin to slop over...." The doctor leaned back with the air of +one who is satisfied with his diagnosis.</p> + +<p>"We are getting away from the subject," I remarked caustically.<a name="page_204" id="page_204"></a></p> + +<p>"Not a bit of it ... we're running along converging lines. The stage is +the mart for the prettiest and most magnetic of women. A pretty woman +may be moral, but the chances are against it. Every man looks upon her +as so much legitimate loot. They differ only in their methods of getting +away with it. Sometimes they effect a legitimate sale: this is what our +social system calls marriage. More often the rate of exchange is +usurious on the part of the man. It varies from a bottle of wine and a +few pretty clothes to a diamond necklace and equally brilliant +promises.... Now here's where our lines converge. The stage is a good +place to show goods. Our eternal chase bids us go in and look 'em +over—and—if you are in a mood to trade—to say nothing of having the +price—you'll find a bevy of ambitious beauties with a keen eye to +business."</p> + +<p>"You infer, then, that the society lady sins for love only—and that the +actress bestows her affection for purely mercenary motives?"</p> + +<p>"I don't make any such broad distinction as that—but I believe the +actress has always an eye on the main chance and that she wouldn't let a +little thing like love interfere with business.... The society woman, on +the other<a name="page_205" id="page_205"></a> hand, usually goes wrong because she's unhappily married and +tries to make up for what's missing by stealing a little happiness on +the side."</p> + +<p>"Then I am to believe that the stories one reads about lovers who +present other men's wives with bejewelled gold purses and other little +feminine gew-gaws are wholly fictitious; pure emanations from the brain +of newspaper reporters—or the French dramatist ... and from the divorce +records?"</p> + +<p>The doctor threw back his head and roared like a lion....</p> + +<p>"Perhaps you'll be good enough to tell me under what head you classified +me—being neither a love-lorn society lady nor an ambitious actress with +an eye to the main chance...."</p> + +<p>The doctor sobered to the point of anger. "I have told you that I am +sorry.... I have apologized.... After all, what are we rowing about? +You've proved an alibi—you're not like the rest—so let's forget it."</p> + +<p>"I <i>can't</i> forget it.... You are judging a whole class by a few +individuals who share your perverted ideas ... individuals who would be +immoral in a nunnery.... Would any of the women of your set—name any +one<a name="page_206" id="page_206"></a> of them—would she—<i>could</i> she be less moral on the stage? +Impossible! I don't believe you when you say none of them would 'go the +limit!' Women who drink as much as they do; women whose tongues are +furred with vulgar stories; women who proclaim they are '<i>on</i> to their +husbands' and that their husbands are <i>on</i> to them and still continue to +live under the same roof, occupy the same beds; women who write other +women's husbands love letters and arrange places of assignation ... do +you mean you do not <i>know</i> these women 'go the limit'?" ... My +indignation and resentment had swept me like a storm and left me weak +and bedraggled. The doctor made no response.... I felt that he was +watching me. After a while I proceeded more quietly....</p> + +<p>"The trouble with you, doctor, is that you form your opinions from the +newspapers. The man who writes the head-lines believes it is his bounden +duty to accentuate any and everything pertaining to the stage. The most +obscure chorus girl is 'an actress.' Every divorcée whose antics have +emblazoned the hall of ill-fame expects to become an actress and the +newspapers record her aspiration in large type.<a name="page_207" id="page_207"></a> A police court +magistrate in New York once told me that three-fourths of the women +arrested on the streets for accosting men gave their occupations on the +police blotter as 'actress.' Do you think any yellow sheet ever let an +opportunity like that go by?... If all the petty affairs of your clients +or your friends and casual acquaintances, both scandalous and innocuous, +were printed from week to week, do you think there would be an +appreciable difference between the standard of morality of the doctors, +the dentists, the butchers and bakers and that of the actor?... I don't +think you take into consideration that the actor's life is public +property. He is denied the right of privacy in all matters. Nothing is +too trivial, too delicately personal, to be shared with the public."</p> + +<p>"And who's to blame for that, my lady, but the player himself? Publicity +is his stock in trade. He's got to advertise, or drop out.... If ever I +want a divorce, I'll dig up an actor as co-respondent: not because there +may not be others, but because the actor would appreciate the +advertisement." ... The doctor leaned toward me to better enjoy my +discomfiture, then laughed tormentingly.<a name="page_208" id="page_208"></a></p> + +<p>I rose to my feet; he accepted his congé lingeringly.</p> + +<p>"Well, at any rate I've done you good; your face has got back its +colour." ... He stood contemplating me for a second.</p> + +<p>"You know ... you've got a good deal of think works under that dusky +head—only don't think too much.... It's bad business for a woman of +your temperament." He turned to pick up his coat. Boy had fallen asleep +upon it, nestling close to the warm fur. "What a shame to disturb +him—don't do it. I can do without the coat until I get home." I lifted +Boy gently and carried him still asleep to the bedroom beyond. The +doctor followed to the alcove and stood watching while I covered the +child. Then he picked up his coat and threw it over his arm.</p> + +<p>"I guess you're equal to holding Handsome Bill by the leading strings, +all right.... Hartley's a fine chap; one of the nicest actors I ever +knew, and I'm downright fond of him." ...</p> + +<p>I could not repress a sneer in the safety of the twilight. It was not +lost on the doctor.</p> + +<p>"I know what you are thinking about," he said quietly, "but you know as +well as I that<a name="page_209" id="page_209"></a> where there's a woman in the case there's about as much +honour among men as there is among thieves." ... He stretched out his +hand. "Good-bye, little girl.... I'm glad to have had this talk with +you; it's better than dodging each other and arousing suspicion. Aren't +you going to shake hands?... O, well if you look at it in that light ... +just the same, I'm yours to command whenever you feel the need <a name="page_210" id="page_210"></a>of me." +... Exit doctor.</p> + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII</h3> + +<p class="nind">T<small>OWARD</small> the end of the engagement in Chicago it became expedient that I +undergo a minor operation. Will suggested I enter a private hospital +near at hand, that he might be in daily communication with me. I +preferred, however, to return to New York, and place myself under the +care of our family physician. Our apartment being still occupied, I +decided on one of the smaller hotels, which abound on the cross streets +between Twenty-fourth and Forty-fifth. Will's company was booked for a +week in Cleveland following the Chicago engagement.</p> + +<p>I received daily letters from Will telling me how lonely he was without +Boy and me, and every other day he wired me some nice little greeting. +The operation was simple and, as Experience was permitted to bring Boy +to visit me during given hours of the afternoon, the time passed +quickly.<a name="page_211" id="page_211"></a></p> + +<p>By the end of the week I was able to leave the hospital and I had +apprised Will of my intention. Consequently I was not surprised to find +a telegram awaiting me at the hotel. Experience said it had probably +been delivered while she was on the way to fetch me. I waited until I +had made myself comfy in a big arm chair which Experience had ready for +me, and while she made a cup of tea over our alcohol lamp I settled back +to enjoy Will's message. It was a long one, I saw at a glance. +Experience turned enquiringly at my ejaculation. The telegram had been +sent from Cincinnati, where Will was now playing, following Cleveland. +It read: "Come at once if you are able to travel. Not ill, but need your +presence. Have wired money to bank. Best train Big Four Limited leaving +at six-thirty p.m. New York Central. Telegraph on departure. Love, +Will."</p> + +<p>I read and reread the message. My perturbation grew. What did Will mean +by "need your presence"? He forestalled any alarm about his health by +saying he was not ill, but had he told the truth? Perhaps he had met +with an accident, a terrible disfiguring—surely I was letting my nerves +run away with<a name="page_212" id="page_212"></a> me.... But why did he urge me to come to Cincinnati when +we had planned to meet the following week in St. Louis, his home city, +and where there was to be a kind of reunion of the family relatives? It +was obvious that he expected me, as he had taken the care to look up +trains and had telegraphed the money.</p> + +<p>There was something very much the matter.... I glanced at the clock. It +lacked a few minutes of five, and the train left at half after six.... +The bank was closed, but I could get a check cashed. Whatever had +happened it was my duty to be with Will. I jumped to my feet, forgetful +of my convalescence. The weakness had vanished. I felt strangely well. +"Experience ... never mind the tea.... We leave for Cincinnati at +once...."</p> + +<p>Experience set down the kettle and looked at me with her hand on her +hips.... I made no explanation, but began to don the clothes I had only +a moment since removed. The necessity for immediate action finally +seeped into Experience's brain. "Then I guess I'll have to fly at +packin' up.... Law-zee, if this ain't seein' the country!..."</p> + +<p>Will met us at the station. The first glimpse of him through the iron +grill relieved my suspense<a name="page_213" id="page_213"></a> concerning his health. He was not ill, and +appeared to be whole and undamaged. He was solicitous about my +condition. I <i>did</i> look a bit of a wreck. After the excitement of +getting off had subsided and there was nothing to do but listen to the +monotonous clickety-click of the speeding train, I had collapsed. The +reaction was too great. It was not until we were in sight of our +destination that I dragged myself to my feet and steeled myself to meet +whatever emergency confronted me.... Naturally I asked no questions +during the drive to the hotel. The general aspect of Cincinnati was +typical of my state of mind: an unsunned sky and a smoke-filmed +atmosphere.... It occurred to me how fallacious was Milton's conception +of "evil news." ... "For evil news rides post while good news baits." It +has always appeared to me the other way about. Good news flashes on to +its destination gathering impetus as it goes, while harbinger of bad +lags on behind, retarding the very hours by its sable weight.... The +mental rack of suspense, of waiting, while the imagination conjures an +endless chain of dire probabilities.... When, at last, Experience and +Boy were settled in an adjoining room Will closed the<a name="page_214" id="page_214"></a> door and turned +to me. It seemed an interminable time before he spoke. He seemed to be +bracing himself for the effort.</p> + +<p>"First I want to thank you for coming without question.... I only hope +you will not suffer a relapse...."</p> + +<p>I waved aside the preamble....</p> + +<p>"Well," I said....</p> + +<p class="ast">* * * *</p> + +<p>I think I was stunned. Nothing seemed quite real about the room. Even +Will's voice sounded remote. I had experienced the same sensation coming +out of the ether after my operation. The doctor's assuring "It's all +right, little lady; just open your eyes" reached me from across spanless +space. Then, as now, followed a great wave of nausea, whirling me into a +relentless undertow, leaving me limp and racked with pain.... +Mechanically I re-read the clipping Will had thrust into my hand by way +of preparing me for what followed. It was an excerpt from "The Club +Window" and ran as follows: "A certain clique of rough-riders allied +with a North Side country club are laying odds on a high-stepping filly +of their set who for some time past has been riding for a fall. The +inevitable cropper will involve a certain<a name="page_215" id="page_215"></a> actor who for the past month +has been delighting Chicago audiences with his manly pulchritude as well +as his histrionic ability. The lady in the case showed marked preference +for the society of the actor during one of his former visits to the +Windy City. From time to time there has reached the ears of the +seat-warmers in the Club Window gossip of certain little junkets to New +York during the past winter. It may have been purely coincidental that +the actor was playing a season's engagement in the metropolis but—be +that as it may—the advent of the company to our parts was watched with +considerable gusto. Likewise it may have been purely chance that the +husband of the third part was away on a hunting trip. 'The best laid +plans of' and so forth; the unexpected happened when the actor's wife +accompanied him on his visit to us. The affair was for the moment in +abeyance. <i>But</i>—no sooner had the wife returned to New York than the +fire broke out with renewed ardour probably fanned by the previous +adverse winds of cruel fate. When the company left for another city the +fair Chicagoan was missing from her accustomed haunts. Subsequent +investigation affirmed the rumour that the lady was a guest at<a name="page_216" id="page_216"></a> a +leading hotel in Cleveland. Incidentally her suite of rooms was on the +same floor as that of the actor. Let us hope that some busy bee does not +buzz about the head of the mighty hunter and bring him back gunning for +the destroyer of his peace. Verily, verily, the actor hath power to +charm."</p> + +<p>"You must realize, girlie, that I wouldn't have worried you with this +nasty business if I hadn't been afraid of letting us both in for +something worse.... What do you think of the damned cat who cooked up a +thing like that? It was pure spite work. You see it was like this: When +I met this female reporter two years ago she was all for me. You +remember the nice things she wrote about me when I played Chicago the +last time? Well, she came on to New York last winter and I took her to +lunch and showed her other little attentions just to keep on the good +side of her. About the same time the other dame blew in, and I felt it +was up to me to discharge some of my social debts to her. Here's where +the elderly spinster reporter got sore. She thought she had a corner on +the market. It's hell to be such a fascinatin' devil!..."</p> + +<p>Will winked at me, albeit a little dubiously,<a name="page_217" id="page_217"></a> sensing a probable lack +of appreciation on my part.</p> + +<p>"When I came back to Chicago this trip," he continued, "I received a +note from my quondam friend and later she came back to my dressing-room +to see me. She made some pertinent remarks about the other woman, hinted +at some persons being ingrates after all she had done to boom them when +they were 'also rans' and, now that they had got there, threw down their +old friends. I lost my temper a bit and we parted bad friends. The +result was she transferred her booming to ——" (Will named the character +actor of his company) "and proceeded to lay it over me on every possible +occasion.... These damned women are always worse when they get along in +life...."</p> + +<p>"What did this 'club' woman expect of you?... What did she want?"</p> + +<p>Will looked at me blankly, then batted his eyes....</p> + +<p>"Why ... why, I suppose the old hen wanted me to make love to her: she +made a play for me and I threw her down hard."</p> + +<p>He took the clipping from my fingers and replaced it in his wallet.<a name="page_218" id="page_218"></a></p> + +<p>"Did you know that the—<i>the</i> lady was coming to Cleveland?" I asked.</p> + +<p>"Why—not exactly; she said something about it while we were still in +Chicago but I thought she was bluffing. As a matter of fact I thought +she had more sense than to do a thing like that."</p> + +<p>"What led you to believe she had better sense?—anything in her past +performances?"</p> + +<p>"No—but women are pretty foxy: they generally take care to cover their +trails no matter how reckless they pretend to be. Not many of them want +to lose their homes in spite of their protestations about giving up +everything for 'thou'...."</p> + +<p>"Why did you not insist on her returning home at once? Couldn't you have +gone to another hotel?"</p> + +<p>"What good would that have done? She would have followed. When she +turned up in Cleveland I handed it to her straight, you may imagine. I +didn't mince matters a little bit."</p> + +<p>"Was she afraid to go back home?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know; she said she'd left for good and that she'd never live +with her husband<a name="page_219" id="page_219"></a> again. I told her she could do as she pleased about +<i>that</i>, but I didn't propose to become involved. Then she threatened to +commit suicide—throw herself in the lake. I told her to go ahead and +then she had hysterics all over the place. I had a fine tea-party, I can +tell you.... Somebody sent me a marked copy of the Club Window. I knew, +then, it wouldn't be long before her husband would get wise to it and I +didn't know what kind of a game he'd spring on me. I guess it's not the +first time the lady has kicked over the matrimonial traces, according to +reports. Maybe he's looking for just such an opening."</p> + +<p>The room was thick with tobacco-smoke. Will was burning up one cigar +after another.</p> + +<p>"She made a fine spectacle of herself and of me by showing up at the +railway station looking like a boiled owl. After our scene she capped +the climax by getting a peach of a jag.... By George, I never will hear +the last of it from the members of the company." He pulled down a window +from the top and stopped at the desk, where he took a telegram from his +portfolio—a Christmas present I had made him.<a name="page_220" id="page_220"></a></p> + +<p>"Yesterday morning I received this." I read the message:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"Call me long distance Friday noon sharp. Important.</p> + +<p class="r">(Signed) DOC."</p></div> + +<p>"It was decent of the Doc, wasn't it? Well, I got him on long distance +and the first thing he asked me was whether the lady were with me. +'Well, not exactly <i>with</i> me, but I can't shake her,' I shouted back. +'You've got to,' the Doc went on, 'for your wife's sake you mustn't get +landed with the goods.' The Doc is one of these 'from-Missouri' +gentlemen and wouldn't believe I was innocent under oath. Just the same +he's a good fellow. He told me he knew all about my predicament and that +he'd taken time by the forelock and got hold of madame's sister, who was +standing beside him while he talked. She had her grip with her, ready to +start for Cincinnati at once. I told him to send her by the fastest +express. The Doc said that madame's husband had returned to town +unexpectedly—just as I had anticipated—and after a stay of twenty-four +hours had again disappeared. No one at his office or at his home knew +where he had gone. The sister said he had called her up and inquired +where<a name="page_221" id="page_221"></a> his wife had gone and had rung off abruptly. Then the Doc quizzed +the stenographer, who was an old chum of his, and she confided to him +that the husband's secretary had bought a ticket to Cleveland.... 'He's +on the trail,' the Doc warned, 'and there's only one thing for you to do +... send for your wife if she's able to travel.... Make her get to +Cincinnati before he does. Your wife is a level-headed little woman and +if you put it to her straight she'll play up.... Together you can cook +up something to placate the irate husband....' Can't you just hear the +old Doc roar? Well, I thought his advice good and I wired you at once."</p> + +<p>... "Has the sister arrived?" ... I found it difficult to make myself +heard. My voice was dry and grated harshly....</p> + +<p>"Yes, she's here; they're on the floor below." Will poured a glass of +water and handed it me. Then he sat on the edge of the bed and waited. +It was his turn to be silent. He seemed to have talked himself out....</p> + +<p>"Which of them is it?... Do I know her?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; we had dinner at her house one Sunday night."<a name="page_222" id="page_222"></a></p> + +<p>"Blonde?"</p> + +<p>"Um—yes...."</p> + +<p>"Art's triumph over Nature, I suppose." ... I could not resist the +thrust ... suddenly I sat bolt upright.</p> + +<p>"Will ... <i>Will</i>.... Not—Mrs F.—not the woman with the two little +girls ... not the mother of those children...."</p> + +<p>He nodded and raised his shoulders with a gesture which was half +deploring, half deprecating.</p> + +<p>"O!!!...." I covered my face with my hands ... the picture was <i>too</i> +revolting.... "Children don't cut much ice," the doctor had said. I +stopped up my ears to shut out his voice....</p> + +<p>"How did it begin?" I said at last.</p> + +<p>"O ... the usual way ... supper—or dinner, I've forgotten which—a +little flirtation, lots of booze, motor-rides, rendez-vous while you +listen to the neglected wife song and dance, more dinners and suppers +and motor-rides ... and the first thing you know the fool woman is in +love with you, or thinks she is, which is worse.... I hope you don't +blame <i>me</i>. I can't help it if women make fools of themselves <a name="page_223" id="page_223"></a>over me." +... Something in Will's tone—a <i>sang froid</i>—almost a +<i>braggadocio</i>—sent the blood to my face with a rush of anger. I leaned +forward in my chair and looked him in the eyes.</p> + +<p>"Will ... do you mean to tell me that you never encouraged this woman?"</p> + +<p>"How do you mean—encouraged?"</p> + +<p>"In God's name don't juggle with your words—don't equivocate! You know +what I mean as well as I do!—to encourage in a hundred intangible ways; +to show that you are flattered by a woman's attention; to let her +believe that <i>you</i> believe you are the only one upon whom she has +bestowed her favours; to let her tell you that you are the first man for +whom she has betrayed her husband, though she has been neglected and +unhappy for years and years; to cram down your throat the intimate +confidences of her married life and to tell you she has never sought +consolation elsewhere; to let her do all these without giving her the +lie when you know in your heart she was lying. That's what I mean!... O, +believe me I am beginning to understand the intricacies of the game ... +and if you have gone the limit ... I don't ask you to confess it ... +fidelity does not hinge upon the sexual act, alone—though<a name="page_224" id="page_224"></a> you men +place that above every other virtue in a woman—but I do ask you for the +sake of your manhood, for your own self-respect, don't, <i>don't</i> play the +part of a cad!"</p> + +<p>Will winced as if I had struck him in the face. His face had grown quite +pale and his lips were compressed. When he spoke his voice cut the air +like a fine blade of steel.</p> + +<p>"So that's what you think, is it?... I've obviously made a mistake in +sending for you ... but I did so more for your sake than for my own ... +to prepare you and save you from a shock if there was a blow-out.... I +never knew before what a poor opinion you had of me."</p> + +<p>"Don't distort my words, Will, if you please...."</p> + +<p>He paced back and forth, beating the back of one hand against the palm +of the other.</p> + +<p>"I know you're sick and weak.... I'm trying to make every allowance for +your state of nerves. Up to date you've played up like a brick. I've +often watched you and secretly admired the way you handled things, +but—if you're going to spoil it all by developing into a jealous woman +at this stage of the game...." I turned on him quickly.<a name="page_225" id="page_225"></a></p> + +<p>"I'm sure you can't say that I've ever annoyed you in that line."</p> + +<p>"No, I'll admit, you've been a level-headed woman ... but remember I've +played square with you and I think you'll admit <i>that</i>. I've never had a +serious affair with any woman—and the Lord knows I have it thrown at me +from all sides. The woods are full of Potiphar's wives.... If you had +some men to deal with ... how many of 'em can stand up against that sort +of thing without losing their heads?... why, I've had people tell me we +were a model couple ... and, here, the first time I get into anything +like a serious predicament——"</p> + +<p>"Then you admit other predicaments?"</p> + +<p>"Why, of course, there's been ... O, hell—what's the use of trying to +argue with a woman! You're like all the rest!—when it comes to a +show-down they're not deuces high!" ... He crossed to the telephone and +called a waiter.</p> + +<p>"I've got to order an early dinner; I'll have a fine dose of indigestion +as it is—after all this infernal row.... Of course, if it came to a +show-down and he named me as co-respondent it wouldn't do <i>me</i> any +damage but it would<a name="page_226" id="page_226"></a> upset the pater and the rest of the family all +along the line. You know how they feel about the stage...."</p> + +<p>"What about me?" was on the tip of my tongue but I did not voice it or +the thoughts which followed. How should I feel to see a home broken up +and to know that my husband shared in the wrecking?—whether directly or +indirectly—the results were the same. And the woman—and the two little +girls ... what of them?... A knock at the door caused my very heart to +contract. Had the husband arrived to demand Heaven only knew what?... +The waiter entered with a menu. I had completely forgotten that Will had +summoned him. When the waiter had taken the order and gone, Will crossed +and laid his hand on my arm.</p> + +<p>"Come now, girlie—we musn't let this fool thing come between you and +me. It isn't worth it! You know I love you ... you're the only woman +I've ever loved ... ever <i>will</i> love...."</p> + +<p>O, wise husband! He knew I could no more resist his tenderness than a +flower resists the warm sun.... He let me revel in my first fierce burst +of tears and comforted me mutely;<a name="page_227" id="page_227"></a> then, still holding me in his arms, +he went on talking:</p> + +<p>"Sometimes I hate this damned business and feel that I'd like to chuck +it altogether ... but what's a man to do after he's given the best years +of his life to one thing? It takes a long time to get established in any +profession, nowadays ... and I'm getting older every day.... I'm sorry I +was ugly ... <i>my</i> nerves are a bit frazzled, too ... but I'll be all +right, now that you and I understand each other ... come, now ... let's +forget it.... Come in the bath-room and bathe your eyes. I've ordered a +nice little dinner and a bottle of fizz; it'll buck you up. Then, before +I go to the performance, we'll outline some plan of action...."</p> + +<p>"What do you want me to do?" I asked, as I came out of the bath-room a +little later.<a name="page_228" id="page_228"></a></p> + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII</h3> + +<p class="nind">W<small>HEN</small> I entered the room I had no intention of engaging in a slanging +match. I had telephoned my coming and her sister was awaiting me. I felt +almost sorry for the girl standing beside the bed, her eyes meeting mine +uncertainly, her lips forcing a greeting.</p> + +<p>"Won't you sit down? Fannie, here is Mrs. Hartley...."</p> + +<p>The woman in the bed turned and raised herself on her elbow. Her face +was swollen, the lips blue and loose, and her eyes had the look of +watery gelatine. Without meeting my eyes, she moaned theatrically and +buried her face in the pillows.</p> + +<p>"What—<i>what</i> must you think of me?" she whined.</p> + +<p>"I think you're a fool!" slipped out before I could prevent it.</p> + +<p>"All women are fools—we're all fools over some man," she exclaimed, +pounding the pillows with her fist and working herself up to a Zazaesque +brand of hysteria.<a name="page_229" id="page_229"></a></p> + +<p>"Mrs. F., I did not come here to listen to a dissertation on the +sex-question nor to hold your hand while you have a fit of nerves. +You've got to pull yourself together or I'll wash my hands of the whole +affair. I've come all the way from New York to help you out of a nasty, +a <i>dirty</i> scrape. If you wish to hear what I have to say you'll stop +that silliness and act like a full-grown woman with a modicum of +discretion.... Your husband is apt to walk in at any moment and it may +be well for all concerned that we arrive at some plan of defence."</p> + +<p>Her sister, who had retired to a corner of the room behind me when I sat +down, now crossed to the bedside.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Hartley is right, Fannie—Frank is liable to show up at any +minute."</p> + +<p>Fannie fished for her handkerchief under the pillows and sniffed +tearfully while her sister arranged the pillows.</p> + +<p>"Please pardon me, Mrs. Hartley; my nerves are all gone."</p> + +<p>"I have a few nerves, myself," I thought. I found myself grasping the +arms of my chair as one sometimes does at the dentist's and my teeth +fairly ached from the clinching of my<a name="page_230" id="page_230"></a> jaws. When Mrs. F. had folded and +dropped her hands into her lap with the air of a long-suffering woman, I +proceeded.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Hartley and I have decided that you are my guest: that it was at my +invitation you went to Cleveland with us and that I urged you to +continue on the trip until your husband returned from his hunting trip. +On your arrival here, you contracted a heavy cold which developed into +the grippe; grippe will answer as well as anything else and is not +sufficiently serious to call in a physician. Are you familiar with the +symptoms of the grippe?" Mrs. F. nodded.</p> + +<p>"Very well. When you began to grow worse you telegraphed your sister."</p> + +<p>"But," interjected the sister, "that won't do; that won't hold together +because Frank called me up on the telephone a few moments after he +returned to Chicago and I told him I didn't know where Fannie was...." I +stopped to think....</p> + +<p>"Then we'll have to make the telegram reach you immediately <i>after</i> he +telephoned and, as he disappeared so abruptly without telling even his +office force where he was going, you have an explanation for not being +able to reach<a name="page_231" id="page_231"></a> him.... Now, about the Cleveland week: you didn't know +that your sister had gone away because you yourself were out of town. I +believe that really was the case, was it not?"</p> + +<p>"Quite true," replied the sister. "I was spending a few days at +Wheaton."</p> + +<p>"Then so far, it is clear, is it not?... Mr. Hartley will take care of +the article which appeared in the Club Window ... and if your husband +arrives, I'll try to take care of him.... Now, ... let us think: are +there any points we have overlooked?" There was a silence while each of +us reviewed the situation. It was Mrs. F. who spoke first.</p> + +<p>"Suppose—suppose Frank has set detectives on my track and they find out +that you've not been to Cleveland! O, I'm sure he'll do it! It's just +like Frank! You don't know what a brute he can be. O, it's all very well +to say that I am to blame—that I am in the wrong, but if you had lived +with Frank for eight years as I have you'd understand some things—and +not treat me as if I was a ——"</p> + +<p>"Stop that!" I felt my eyes snap with the blaze she had kindled. She +snivelled and sobbed a bit, then relaxed into sullen silence.</p> + +<p>"If your husband <i>has</i> employed detectives<a name="page_232" id="page_232"></a> we'll have to meet the +contingency by standing together. In other words we'll perjure ourselves +like—perfect ladies. Mr. Hartley says—and being a man he ought to +know—that no man would have the courage to tell me I was not telling +the truth, even if he thought so."</p> + +<p>"We'll never get away with it—we'll never get away with it," wailed +Mrs. F.</p> + +<p>It was the sister who spoke next.</p> + +<p>"And suppose Frank does not show up—suppose he doesn't come at all but +waits for the detectives' report and——"</p> + +<p>"And begins action for divorce without even saying a word about it!" It +was Madame who interjected this possibility. "Wouldn't that be just like +him! Wouldn't that be Frank just down to the ground? Edith knows how +cold-blooded he is, don't you, Edith? O, it's too awful! I never could +live through such a thing! I wouldn't live! I'd kill myself—I'd throw +myself into the lake! I'd——"</p> + +<p>"Don't you think you are wearing that threat a little threadbare?" I +asked quietly, henceforth addressing myself to the sister.</p> + +<p>"In the event that your brother-in-law does<a name="page_233" id="page_233"></a> not come or that we hear +nothing from him, there is only one thing left: you must take your +sister back to Chicago ... and I'll go with you...."</p> + +<p>I believe my voice petered out before I completed the sentence. The idea +was repugnant, but was it not all revolting in the extreme? I had given +my promise to Will to "see it through" and I intended to do so to the +best of my ability. Mrs. F.'s sister broke my train of thought. She +stood before me with averted eyes struggling to keep back the tears, and +twisting her hands nervously.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Hartley ... I don't want to appear maudlin ... but I think ... you +understand how I feel.... It seems almost inane to say ... how much we +... appreciate what you are doing.... For my sister's sake I thank you +... I...."</p> + +<p>"I'm not doing it for your sister's sake"—I tried to speak gently but +everything in me seemed to have grown hard and unyielding—"nor for my +husband's sake; neither for my own; I've got a boy—a son ... and there +are two little girls...."</p> + +<p>A volley of sobs smote our ears and shook the bed.<a name="page_234" id="page_234"></a></p> + +<p>"My poor babies! The poor darlings!... I wish they had never been born!" +...</p> + +<p>"It's too bad you didn't think of them before, Fannie," her sister +answered caustically. It was the first expression of censure she had +voiced. Mrs. F. bounced to a sitting position: yes, <i>bounced</i> is the +only adequate description. Grief had made a quick shift to anger. She +glared at her sister.</p> + +<p>"So you've turned against me, too, have you? I might have expected it: +that's the gratitude you feel for all I've done for you. Where would you +be if it were not for me?—you'd be pounding somebody's typewriter for +five dollars a week! This is the thanks I get for sacrificing myself for +the whole family! Every one of them will blame me for the whole +business. What right have you to judge? How does anybody know what I've +suffered for years living with that man?... literally starving for +affection, ... he never took the trouble to understand my temperament +... he neglected me, he——"</p> + +<p>"Hah-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-" ... It was my turn to indulge in hysteria, only +mine was of the laughing variety: I laughed until the tears came—until +I sank back from sheer exhaustion.<a name="page_235" id="page_235"></a> From their expression Madame and her +sister thought I had gone suddenly mad.</p> + +<p>"What are you laughing at?" she snapped, glaring at me with suppressed +rage.</p> + +<p>"My dear," I responded feebly, "my dear, don't you realize what an awful +old chestnut that neglected wife story is? Mr. Hartley says they all use +it ... it is the cardinal excuse, the subterfuge all married women +resort to, to justify their own infidelities."</p> + +<p>"Did—did Mr. Hartley intimate——?"</p> + +<p>"O, no! Mr. Hartley betrayed none of your confidences ... but, tell me +honestly ..."—I leaned forward and clasped my knees to better +accentuate my words—"do you really expect a man of the world to believe +that—or care whether you are neglected or not? You know that men gossip +and bandy women's names about their clubs—not in so many damning words, +but with a knowing wink, a shrug of the shoulder, this head-shake, or, +'by pronouncing some doubtful phrase ... or such ambiguous giving out' +... my dear ... I have a rare collection of mash-notes which my +actor-husband has from time to time tossed laughingly into my lap. Their +character varies like the colour of the paper on which they are<a name="page_236" id="page_236"></a> +written. There is the white, the pale blue, and several shades of +lavender.... The actor's world is full of lavender ladies of the Bovary +type: the wonder of it is that so many of them 'get away with it' as you +have so elegantly expressed it. Suppose <i>you</i> don't get away with it ... +suppose your husband divorces you ... what will become of you? How will +you live? You're not equipped to make your own living. You couldn't even +typewrite—like your sister. Suppose I were to divorce my husband, +naming you as co-respondent: do you flatter yourself he would marry you? +And let us assume that he did: How long do you think it would last? He +is a poor man. His profession is a purely speculative one. His income is +assured for only two weeks at a time, except in rare instances. He +couldn't give you the jewels, the furs, the motors and the luxuries you +now enjoy. How long do you believe your mad passion would endure, +stripped of little appurtenances like wine suppers and suites of rooms +in the best hotels?... Perhaps you'd become an actress like so many +women who look on the stage as an open sesame to a life of +immorality.... Like so many women with a <a name="page_237" id="page_237"></a>screw loose in their moral +machinery ... no, don't you say a word! This is my scene—and I am going +to hold the centre of the stage for once in my career!... I know your +kind, mi-lady.... You belong to that great class of over-fed and +under-bred women who make life so hard for the rest of their sex. You're +one of the wasters; you waste what does not rightfully belong to you; +what you usurp in your greediness, in your pandering to your vanities, +in your compromise with your better instincts, in your connivance with +the very devil who finds some mischief still for idle hands to do! You +stimulate your passions with alcohol and mistake the fumes for love! You +haven't the courage to come out and be a genuine prostitute, but you ply +the trade in the rôle of an adulteress. For God's sake, wake up! Look +yourself in the eyes before it is too late! If you have no self-respect, +no respect for your sex, try at least to respect the rights of those +little souls you've brought into the world without their asking. O, yes, +cry!... Crocodile tears and alcoholic drool!... It's a mistake to +believe that all women have the maternal instinct ... so have female +cats and dogs—and rabbits." ...</p> + +<p>I had risen as my fury sought to master me.<a name="page_238" id="page_238"></a> I stood beside the bed +looking down at her ... making an ineffectual last-ditch fight for my +self-control. Something about the woman ... the very quality of her +night-dress—the heavily jewelled fingers—maddened me. The poison +coursed through my veins like quick-silver ... once before in my life I +had felt it ... before my boy was born ... <i>then</i> I had succumbed to a +desire to wreak physical vengeance ... the same madness seized me now +... I saw her shrink from me....</p> + +<p>"O, you—<i>you</i> ——!"</p> + +<p>... I didn't say it; I caught myself in time. The blood stained my face +with shame—shame with the very coarseness of the thought; shame with +the whole revolting situation. Was I, too, become impregnated with the +corroding influence of my environment? I turned and walked toward the +door. As I reached for the knob, it opened and some one entered +abruptly. I jumped aside to avoid being struck.</p> + +<p>I knew who he was though I had never seen him before. The next moment I +had reached for his hand and grasped it impulsively, at the same time +laying a warning finger on my lips and indicating the bed.</p> + +<p>"O, Mr. F., you don't know how glad I am<a name="page_239" id="page_239"></a> to see you. We've been worried +to death ... she's asleep now, after the most racking night ... do you +mind not waking her for the present?... of course if you'd rather ..." I +waited while he looked at the figure of his wife, lying helpless with +her face to the wall, while his eyes roved to question those of the +sister, then back to mine with the single word:</p> + +<p>"Sick?... How long has she been sick?"</p> + +<p>"Ever since we arrived here; it's the grippe, I think, though we +couldn't induce her to see a doctor. She's been so upset at not hearing +from you.... Do you mind stepping into the hall where we can talk more +freely without danger of disturbing her?... Edith will call us if she +awakens, won't you, Edith?" ...</p> + +<p class="ast">* * * *</p> + +<p>Edith did not call. The hall was draughty; I managed a sneeze. Mr. F. +suggested that we go down to the grill and have a drink. In the elevator +I saw him glance furtively at me.... I was humming softly to myself. I +watched his eyes in the mirror; they had a confused look not unmixed +with suspicion. Not until after the second cocktail did he thaw a bit. +He asked me whether I had dined. I told him I had not. After he had +ordered, he<a name="page_240" id="page_240"></a> leaned back in his chair and gave me a penetrating look. I +met his eyes and smiled a little.</p> + +<p>"You look tired," I said.</p> + +<p>"I am—rather. These sleeper jumps take it out of a fellow."</p> + +<p>"They surely do ... and I presume you've been worried to death about +Fannie." The name slipped glibly from my lips. He shot me a quick glance +which told me the familiar use of his wife's name had been effective. He +shifted uneasily in his seat as he answered.</p> + +<p>"Well, yes——"</p> + +<p>"We have been fairly living on the long distance telephone trying to +reach you. What on earth was the trouble? Edith received Fannie's +telegram a minute after you called her up and when she tried to reach +you—well, she couldn't, that's all...."</p> + +<p>"There was something the matter with the connection ... it's been off +for several days ..." he replied.</p> + +<p>"Of course we could have telegraphed but we didn't want to alarm you," I +went on, meeting his own brave lie with another. "As a matter of fact I +think we all were more scared than hurt. Fannie had had a cold while we +were<a name="page_241" id="page_241"></a> still in Chicago—that's a trying climate in the winter. Then when +we reached Cleveland, there wasn't much of an improvement in the matter +of weather and I felt a bit guilty in having urged her to go with us." I +toyed with, the celery and wiped off imaginary soot.</p> + +<p>"Were you in Cleveland?"</p> + +<p>I looked up at him in mild surprise.</p> + +<p>"Why, of course. It was at my invitation that Fannie accompanied us. She +was bored to death in Chicago ... it must be deadly monotonous—this +same routine day after day ... the same faces and nothing new to talk +about.... You know—you know if you were my husband I shouldn't let you +run away on hunting trips and leave me behind.... I don't think you men +realize how stupid it becomes with no change of menu—as it were...."</p> + +<p>I reproved him with a smile. For the first time his eyes sent back a +glint of warmth.</p> + +<p>"How long have you known Fannie? It's odd that I've never—had the +pleasure of meeting you before." (The pleasure was an after-thought.)</p> + +<p><a name="page_242" id="page_242"></a>"O ... I've known Fannie for ... let me see ... nearly three years...." +(I made a mental note of this for "Fannie's" benefit.) "We met when Will +played Chicago two seasons since. We took quite a fancy to each other, +and last winter when she came to New York we went about together and +became quite good friends.... I presume you were away on one of your +hunting trips last winter ... naughty sir ... that's the reason I didn't +meet you.... This trip I brought Boy to Chicago.... You haven't seen my +young son, have you? You must make his acquaintance to-morrow. We're +most awfully vain about him ... think he's the only boy in the world. I +suppose you feel that way about your little girls ... they <i>are</i> +beauties. They've got your eyes, though they have inherited Fannie's +regular features...."</p> + +<p>Would my tongue never stop wagging? What manner of woman had I suddenly +become? I did not recognize myself. Was it a case of self-hypnosis and +was I really feeling the interest and friendliness I pretended? He was +not precisely an Adonis; there was something rough, almost uncouth, +about him in spite of the veneer his money had brought. But there was a +kindliness, a wholesouledness that made itself felt. Under any other +conditions I<a name="page_243" id="page_243"></a> should have liked him.... I saw him look at his watch.</p> + +<p>"What time is it?... The performance will soon be over and Mr. Hartley +will wonder where I am.... Wouldn't he be surprised to walk in here and +see me dining with a strange man?... I hope you're not afraid of getting +yourself talked about...."</p> + +<p>"No, I guess not," he laughed back. I was silent for a time, while I +wrestled with the breast of a squab. I felt his eyes upon me. When I +looked at him I saw that he was revolving something in his mind, and I +sensed the subject. I gave him time to think it over. After a while I +leaned back in my chair.</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry to confess it, but I'm beginning to feel a bit tired," I +sighed. "Even your genial presence will not keep my eyes open much +longer.... Edith I'm sure is feeling the strain, too. Well, we'll all +sleep better to-night—after our worry. 'All's well that ends well'—and +that reminds me—my husband and I were admiring a set of Shakespeare you +have in your library."</p> + +<p>"Um—yes; I remember it. I bought it for the binding. Don't believe I +ever saw the inside<a name="page_244" id="page_244"></a> of it...." He freshened my glass of wine.</p> + +<p>"You're not much of a drinker, are you?"</p> + +<p>"Haven't got brains enough to stand it," I answered flippantly.</p> + +<p>He laughed; it had a true ring to it.</p> + +<p>The game was in my hands.</p> + +<p>"I guess you mean you've got brains enough to <i>with</i>stand it."</p> + +<p>Would the dinner never come to an end? I thought. My body seemed to grow +old with the minutes. At last the waiter cleared the table. When he had +gone for a liqueur, Mr. F. took some letters from his pocket. From the +packet he selected a piece of printed matter. He laid it face down upon +the table while he replaced the letters. Then he looked at me, drumming +with his fingers over the spot where the clipping lay. The waiter +returned. Mr. F. drained the cognac glass and called for another. While +it was being brought he folded his arms upon the table and leaned toward +me.</p> + +<p>"I wonder whether I'd better show you something...."</p> + +<p>I assumed the same attitude; it was conducive to confidence.<a name="page_245" id="page_245"></a></p> + +<p>"Show me what?"</p> + +<p>His drumming became louder.</p> + +<p>"No, I guess I won't!" ...</p> + +<p>"Now, I call that unkind—to pique my curiosity and leave me suspended +in mid-air."</p> + +<p>He folded the clipping and rattled it between his fingers.</p> + +<p>"Is that what you were going to show me? Wait a moment." ... I leaned +toward him to better examine the paper, then relaxed against the back of +the chair and smiled.</p> + +<p>"I think I know what it is.... Will you lay me a wager? What will you +wager that I can guess what that paper is the very first time?"</p> + +<p>He sprawled and tilted back his chair good-naturedly.</p> + +<p>"O, I'll bet you a box of candy or a bunch of violets."</p> + +<p>"A five-pound box of candy—I don't like violets. Agreed?"</p> + +<p>He nodded.</p> + +<p>"It's a clipping from the Club Window...."</p> + +<p>"Then you've seen it?"</p> + +<p>"Of course I've seen it, silly man—hasn't everybody seen it? And wasn't +my Willy furiously angry? He wanted to take the first train<a name="page_246" id="page_246"></a> back to +Chicago and clear out the whole establishment. It was all Fannie and I +could do to calm him.... He said he was going to see you about it +because he thought you and he should get together and take some kind of +action against the slanderous sheet. I tell him he's foolish to pay any +attention to it; just let it die of inanition. Don't you think so?"</p> + +<p>"Well, I was a little upset myself when I read it. I didn't know what +the devil to think...."</p> + +<p>"Well, I know you've got too much sense to believe anything wrong about +your wife.... I can appreciate how you and Will feel about it and that +you'd like to make them retract—but—isn't it best to ignore it?—so +long as <i>we</i> know it's a malicious lie.... It's a shocking thing the way +the press in this country construes license for freedom.... The libel +laws are wholly inadequate. They manage that sort of thing much better +in England.... There are so many evil-minded people in the world—don't +you find it so?"</p> + +<p>"Well, I confess, there's always somebody hanging around anxious to +disseminate gossip, though I've never observed any of them helping along +the nice things you hear."<a name="page_247" id="page_247"></a></p> + +<p>"Now that we are on the subject, I'll tell you how this happened; the +woman who concocted that libellous attack is an ugly perverted +creature—she must be perverted or she would not be earning her +livelihood in such a questionable way, don't you think so? Several years +ago when she met my husband she volunteered to write some nice little +personalia about him. He wasn't as well known then as now and every +little bit helps, you know.... Well, Will kept up a desultory +acquaintance with the woman and saw her from time to time. She was in +New York when Fannie was there last winter, by the way. I don't know +just how it came about, but the spinster scribbler developed a jealous +streak and upbraided Will for being ungrateful for all she had done for +him. I'm sure she could not have done a great deal for anyone in a +wretched paper like the Club Window. To tell you the truth she was +infatuated with Will. To use his own words—she made a play for him and +he threw her down hard! Mr. Hartley is not given to that sort of +thing—and if he were—you may be sure I should have something to say +about it." I nodded sententiously.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I guess you'd make it pretty warm<a name="page_248" id="page_248"></a> for any poacher on your +preserves!" We both laughed. I believe I even jerked my head pertly to +mark my cocksureness. And, as I turned away, my eyes settled upon Will. +He was standing in the doorway, evidently having just entered, since he +still wore his overcoat and carried his hat in his hand. I half-rose. My +host followed my move.</p> + +<p>"It's Will—it's Mr. Hartley ... come in, Will...." I beckoned to him +and stole a glance at Mr. F. No, there was no hesitation on his part. He +rose and crossed to meet Will with outstretched hand. My hand shook so +that I could hardly raise the wine glass to my lips. I drained the last +drop and sank into my chair. The game was won....</p> + +<p class="ast">* * * *</p> + +<p>It was nearly an hour later when I rose to leave the table. Will had +eaten the supper which Mr. F. had insisted upon ordering and they were +still calling for wine. I had steered the conversation clear of the +perilous rocks and felt that I could now safely leave the two men +together. They rose with me.</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry to leave such delightful company—I believe I said something +like that an hour ago, did I not, Mr. F.?... I want to drop<a name="page_249" id="page_249"></a> in on Edith +and make my peace with her. I fear she'll feel neglected. If you require +my services during the night please don't hesitate to ring me up, though +I feel sure Fannie will be ever so much better now that you've arrived. +I presume you two gentlemen want to talk things over—that wretched +slander, I mean—only—" and at this point I assumed a mock-serious +attitude—"don't do anything until you hear from me, will you?... Now, +please don't move.... I'll find my way.... Good-night, sir ... and don't +forget that you owe me five pounds of the best candy in Cincinnati."</p> + +<p>When I reached Mrs. F.'s room, her sister had already opened the door. +She had heard the elevator stop and was waiting. The girl's face was +drawn and the circles under the eyes had deepened. Mrs. F., too, showed +the strain of waiting.</p> + +<p>"Mr. F. and my husband are downstairs; they were exchanging funny +stories when I left ... there will be no pistols—nor a divorce on this +count ... now, if you have another spell of hysterics I think I shall +kill you.... Edith ... we had better begin calling each other 'dearie' +and that sort of thing to accustom ourselves, for we've known each other +<a name="page_250" id="page_250"></a>three years ... please repeat it after me so that you won't forget +it.... Edith, should you mind pouring me a dose of Fannie's valerian?... +I think I took a wee drop too much ... my teeth are fairly chattering +... now let me think.... I'll begin at the moment we left the room +together ... please don't interrupt unless there is something you do not +grasp ... he may come at any moment...."</p> + +<p class="ast">* * * *</p> + +<p>I went to the telephone directly I entered my room and called for the +room clerk. I told him I wanted another room on the same floor. While I +waited for the bell-boy to bring the key I wrote a note and pinned it on +the mirror where it would attract Will's attention. "I have gone to +another room. Don't disturb me, please. We'll talk it over to-morrow."</p> + +<p>When I had turned the key in the lock and had surveyed my own domain I +felt strangely light in the head. I opened a window and mechanically +arranged my toilet articles. Then I disrobed, unpinned my hair and +cleansed my face with cold cream. At least, I <i>assume</i> that I did all +these, for the next day, when I awoke to consciousness, everything was +in place, my hair was braided in two pig-tails, and my face<a name="page_251" id="page_251"></a> still +showed traces of cold cream. From the moment I had locked myself in I +had no recollection of what followed. The doctor called it "syncope."<a name="page_252" id="page_252"></a></p> + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV"></a>CHAPTER XIV</h3> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="r">"St. Louis, Mo., March 10th.</p> + +<p class="nind">"Darling Girl:</p> + +<p>"I am taking for granted that you arrived safely. There has been no +word from you since you returned home a week since. I hope you +found the apartment in good shape and that things did not suffer +too much wear and tear at the hands of our late tenants.</p> + +<p>"Just as I predicted, the folks were much disappointed at not +seeing you here. There was a regular family reunion. Grandma Murray +came on from Indianapolis and two of my paternal aunts all the way +from Kansas. As none of the relatives has ever seen Boy you may +imagine how disappointed they were. However, it couldn't be helped. +Naturally I did not tell them that you had been to Cincinnati. I +let them infer that you were not sufficiently recovered from the +effects of your recent operation to permit your making the trip. I +fully appreciate the state of your nerves and that a relapse was +inevitable; just the same I think you should write me and keep me +informed of your condition. Take it quietly for a few weeks and +you'll come out all right. Don't let that Cincinnati affair prey on +your mind: a little later when your health is better, you won't +take it so seriously.<a name="page_253" id="page_253"></a> Now don't jump at the conclusion that I +don't appreciate the way you played up, or the narrow escape I have +had. You may feel sure that sort of thing will never happen again. +And that reminds me: I had a letter from Mr. F. saying he had +consulted his lawyer about taking action against the Club Window +and had been advised to let the matter drop. (<i>Requiescat in +pace!</i>) He wished to be remembered to you.</p> + +<p>"The weather is depressing. I'm not feeling up to my standard. I +suspect I have been eating too much and exercising too little. +Well, Girlie, the train leaves in an hour and I have still some +odds and ends to look after. I enclose our route to follow Kansas +City. Now write me at once or I shall begin to worry about you. A +bunch of kisses to Boy from his Dad, reserving all you want for +yourself, of course.</p> + +<p>"With all my love,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 5%">"Your devoted husband,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10%;">"W<small>ill.</small>"</span></p></div> + +<p>This letter was a week old. I had made several attempts to answer it but +all had ended in the waste-basket. Following my home-coming, I had been +glad to lie quietly in bed in obedience to the doctor's orders. A heavy +inertia lay upon me. My nights were an amorphous jumble of improbable +situations; I awoke of mornings with a nausea at heart. My mind was +furred with unpleasant memories. It revolved<a name="page_254" id="page_254"></a> in circles. The more I +thought the faster it whirled, resulting in complete confusion. Inner +adjustment seemed impossible. I realized in a hazy way that I must +arouse myself or fall a prey to melancholia. Even Boy's laughter as it +was wafted to me from another room unleashed a thousand apprehensions. +The effulgence his being had shed into my life was now dimmed by fears +for his future. Should I be able to steer his craft, even launch it +safely, <i>preparedly</i> on the turbulent sea of life? It was, probably, in +the very nature of things that I should exclude my husband from any +participation in my plans for the child. A fierce, almost a defiant, +sense of proprietary right began to assert itself in relation to our +son. The inertia gave way to a state of turbulence, which burned like a +consuming fever. To Will's numerous letters and enquiries I at last +responded by telegraph, "All well," I said.</p> + +<p>One day there came a bulky envelope addressed in Will's handwriting. It +enclosed a letter from John Gailbraith, the sculptor, who was still in +Paris. Across the top Will had written: "This will interest you." Under +separate cover came a package of photographs,<a name="page_255" id="page_255"></a> reproductions of the +colossal work he had recently completed for the Spring Exhibition at the +Salon.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"I have great hopes for this," he wrote. "(Hope is always +promise-crammed, isn't it?) You will see that I have called it +'Super-Creation.' It was conceived like a lightning flash but the +working out, the compelling cold, hard stone to express clearly +what I intended to convey is the result of a dogged grind of nearly +three years' incessant toil. Have I succeeded, do you think? Of +course you have not seen the original, but the photographs are +excellent work, having been taken at various angles and positions +and under my supervision. You will observe that the work is—well, +nothing short of monumental will express it. And, unless a +government or an institution is moved to buy it, I shall probably +have to build a house around it! However, I'm not discouraged +though I've gone in debt for years to come and mortgaged almost my +soul in order to get the wherewithal to complete the work. I +suppose this is what you call 'the artistic temperament.' But I +simply had to do it—I had to get it out of my system and in doing +so I feel that I have lived up to the best that was in me. After +all there is some consolation in the thought that one <i>has</i> lived +up to one's best instincts. How goes your own work? And your +missus? Ask her to write me and tell me without circumlocution what +she thinks of my effort, especially the conception on the whole. I +should like to have discussed<a name="page_256" id="page_256"></a> it with her and to have had her +opinion in the making. Over here one gets only the one-sided +opinion of one's confrères or the unimaginative view-point of a few +moneyed Americans who want names (<i>BIG TYPE</i>) to fill up the bare +wall-spaces.... I should like to ask your wife whether she is +pursuing her work in earnest or whether like so many lady +<i>dilettantes</i> she is only amusing herself.... How I should like to +see you both here this coming summer! Is it not possible? I'll turn +over my ménage to you if that is an inducement. Let me hear from +you soon and send me the latest picture of the son and heir.</p> + +<p>"Yours fraternally,</p> +<p class="r">"J. G."</p></div> + +<p>I had thrilled at the mere suggestion of a trip abroad but relegated the +thought to a background of remote probabilities and gave myself up to an +eager contemplation of the photographic reproductions of the sculptor's +work. Following the numbers indicated on the back of each, I arranged +the photographs consecutively across the wall.</p> + +<p>The form appeared to be a kind of spiral, each step or incline complete +in itself yet suggesting a connecting thread. At first glance I was +struck with the multiplicity of figures, all nearly life size. But as my +eagerness gave way to soberer perspective, something I had overlooked<a name="page_257" id="page_257"></a> +now asserted itself: <i>In the score of characters represented there were +but two faces—that of one man and one woman!</i> That is to say, the two +faces were reproduced ... yet ... or did one's fancy play at tricks?... +I applied the magnifying glass.... Yes, there were but two faces, both +repeatedly used by the artist, but with what wondrous and illuminating +difference! Starting from the left and lowest plane—symbolic of the +theme—there was embodied in the figures of the man and maid the lowest +form of love.... The youthful prettiness of the girl, the soft roundness +of her form, the maiden breast ... all these but accentuated the +undeveloped soul. Her very attitude, the abandon as she lay smiling, +half-hid amongst the leaves and blooms ... here, indeed, was "a parley +to provocation." ... Above her towered the figure of a man. In his +spare, sinewy form, conscient of its strength, vibrant with sex, the +young male was epitomized.... "Instinct" need not be carved across the +base.... Instinct, the first and lowest form of love.</p> + +<p>From the grassy knoll the path ascended to a rocky promontory, bleak, +arid. Straining 'gainst the fury of the storm, the man and<a name="page_258" id="page_258"></a> woman +climbed; his muscles tense, confusion limned upon his face; the woman, +crouching in her fright, hiding her face in her wind-tossed hair; while +underfoot they trampled on a mask, the leering mask of former self ... +and, riding on the wind, half cloud, half god, a phantom with veiled +face laid on the lash.... Confusion.... Chaos....</p> + +<p>The path led on and up through thorny underbrush; a parched earth; the +cactus plant; some blanched bones, a horned toad. He stood apart with +sullen mien; his features thick and brutalized; his muscles lax and +loose, as if impotent rage had yielded to dumb apathy. The woman, lying +prone, distorted with revolt and fright, seeking to shut out from view +the hideous deformity at her breast—half man, half beast; its clenched +fists, contorted legs raised to rebel; the grotesque mask miming its own +despair. And in the background, poised on abyss-edge, a Hecate band +whirled in orgy-dance.... Where is the tutelary goddess now—the Better +Self, the Soul of Things? And even as I asked I followed in the path +which, still inclining, reached a broad plateau. In the foreground, the +man—gaunt and grim—the grimness of despair; his muscles knotted, his +horny<a name="page_259" id="page_259"></a> hands, the poised axe. Through the matted woods a skulking +wolf.... Beyond, the woman; haggard of face, drawn with fatigue; no +longer full and round of form. Dropping seeds on fresh-tilled earth; a +living burden on her back; around her neck two chubby arms. And at the +entrance to the cave, half blended with the rocks, the Inscrutable One +stood guard.... "The Will to Live" was written here....</p> + +<p>The path winds on, steeper, more tortuous still; by cliffs, abyss, +<i>impasse</i>, bald peaks, the Mount is reached ... and here they rest.... +Like complements they stand, hand clasping hand, looking out and beyond; +serene of brow, though scarred with age. An august peace, the harvest +yield. A straight firm youth hangs on his mother's arm ... and in that +life is blent the best of both—the purpose of the race. The mantle of +the clouds half moulds a form; the hands reach forth to stroke their +eyes.... It is <i>the awakening</i>....<a name="page_260" id="page_260"></a></p> + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XV" id="CHAPTER_XV"></a>CHAPTER XV</h3> + +<p class="nind">W<small>HEN</small> Experience came in some time later, bringing a cup of chicken +broth, she found me at my writing desk. Commenting on my flushed cheeks, +she urged me back to bed. But a feverish energy had seized upon me: to +work, to accomplish, to be independent of another's maintenance. There +was a prescience that in the not far distant future I should have need +of such resource, materially and spiritually. I shook off the foreboding +as a connotation of my physical condition. To take my place in the +world's work was the grandiose euphemism with which I lulled my +uneasiness. That same night I unearthed my working kit from the closet +in which it had been stored. One of the rooms of our apartment bearing +the honorary title of "boudoir" had a southern exposure, and, as we were +on the first floor nearest heaven, the light was good even on gloomy +days, which abounded at this season of the year. I shall never forget +the sense of exhilaration<a name="page_261" id="page_261"></a> with which I cleared the decks for action. It +was as if some great force had breathed the vital impetus into my +nostrils. When I had donned my brown overall-apron I paused and inhaled, +deep and long. It was the first free breath I had drawn for weeks.</p> + +<p>In reviewing the busts I had made of Boy while he was still a baby I was +struck with the child's likeness to his father. Even Experience +commented on it. I set to modelling other heads. Inspired by the example +of our sculptor friend I essayed studies in expression. Boy, in a +laughing mood; Boy, crying; sulking, in a temper; Boy asleep, his head +pillowed on Snyder—Snyder, now so altered and disfigured by painless +surgery at the hands of Experience as to be hardly recognizable. From +the face and head I turned to a study of the hands. It had always +appeared to me that there was more of the real character written in the +human hand than in any other feature of the human form. I studied, +absorbingly, the expression the artist had portrayed in the hands of the +Inscrutable One as they emerged from the cloud-like drapery in the final +grouping on the Mount. Strength, firmness, a certain largeness and +benignity and withal a caressing tenderness....<a name="page_262" id="page_262"></a> It pleased and +surprised me to observe, how, with each new effort, the clay responded +more readily to my touch. Sometimes I made experiments with modelling +wax; a pinch here, a pressure there and the whole expression changed.</p> + +<p>When my touch had mastered a certain sureness and deftness I planned a +nude of Boy with the idea of later executing it in marble. I worked +unceasingly; a relentless energy urged me on—to what purpose it never +suggested itself to enquire. In my ardour I hardly paused to eat. But, +conception is one thing; execution another. I began to understand the +"dogged grind" the sculptor had spoken of. A kind of despair flagged my +spirit. At such times I dragged myself out of doors. Sometimes Boy would +accompany me on these walks, but for the greater part I went alone. I +liked the overcast, drizzly days best. There was a quiet, a solace, in +the unfrequented paths and woodsy corners of the upper boundaries of the +Park. I spent hours sitting upon the rocks feeding the friendly +squirrels, or tramping in the leaf-mouldy tangle. And by degrees my +spirit yielded to the balm of solitude. Once again life fell into a +groove. I told myself I had reached<a name="page_263" id="page_263"></a> a readjustment of my life. For +Boy's sake, if for no other, my husband and I should go on together. The +fact that I still loved my husband I placed as a parenthetic +consideration, in my plans. Boy was the capstone of our married life. +Having brought him into the world without the desire or power of +selection on his part, obviously our first duty was to the child. +"Honour thy father and thy mother" had always appeared to me in dire +need of amendment. Why honour parents who are not qualified to command +either respect or affection? "Be fruitful and multiply": whether saint +or sinner, breed! breed! breed! Paugh! When will a Wise Prophet arise to +reveal a doctrine of eugenics?—to preach that <i>quality, not quantity</i>, +makes for the betterment of a race—that to be well born is the rightful +heritage of the unborn....</p> + +<p>With the resolution to write my husband out of the fullness of my +convictions I hurried homeward. The wind had shifted, and sharp bits of +sleet cut against my face. Hearing me come in, Experience had brought me +a cup of tea. I smiled at the ginger-bread dogs—all replicas of +Snyder—which she told me she had made with the hope of amusing Boy. He<a name="page_264" id="page_264"></a> +had been querulous and quite unlike his happy self; she feared he was +not well, though at this moment he was sleeping quietly. I tip-toed into +his room and, discerning no unnatural symptoms, I left him undisturbed.</p> + +<p>The letter written, I gave myself up to the quiet hour: it was dusk, and +with night a soothing hush seemed to pervade the activities of man. In +the shadows of the room the whiteness of the plaster casts gleamed like +tombstones, the lonely sentinels of the dead. I recall I shuddered at +the thought and forthwith switched on the light. Once in every little +while I looked in upon my Boy. When at last he opened his eyes and +smiled at me, I hugged him to my breast with such vehemence as to make +him cry out. His bedtime bath had always been the signal for a romp. +To-night, however, he seemed disinclined to play. A hot dryness of his +skin caused me to take his temperature. I found nothing disquieting in +the slight rise, and in response to his mood I lay down beside him to +wait for the sand-man. All night he tossed. In the morning the +temperature had risen to an alarming degree. I sent for the doctor. He +came twice during the day. In the night Boy was seized with a +convulsion.<a name="page_265" id="page_265"></a> When the doctor arrived in answer to a summons by +telephone, he looked grave. Something clutched about my heart. It was +with almost superhuman effort I framed the words.... "Shall I ... send +for his father?..." The doctor nodded. "How long will it take him to get +here?" he said....<a name="page_266" id="page_266"></a></p> + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XVI" id="CHAPTER_XVI"></a>CHAPTER XVI</h3> + +<p class="nind">I<small>N</small> a driving rain, under a weeping sky, we followed the little white +casket to the grave—the three of us. There, in the presence of only the +mole-faced grave-diggers and the man of professional black, we yielded +him up. Experience had asked, with a kind of awe, whether she should +call in a minister. I could have shrieked at the mere suggestion! A +minister? On what pretence? To mumble platitudinous euphemisms, worn +thread-bare from usage—to essay to comfort me with specious consolation +ground out like a gramophone: "Be brave, my child! He has gone to a +better world," or "The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away," or, again, +"You are not alone in your affliction; other mothers have suffered their +dear ones to be removed," et cetera, et cetera. Words! Words! Words!...</p> + +<p>As they lowered him in the grave, his father held me close and, in a +voice tremulous with tears, he quoted reverently: "And from his<a name="page_267" id="page_267"></a> fair +and unpolluted flesh may violets spring." ... And when the earth thud +harshly 'gainst the coffin lid, closing him away forever ... never again +to hold him in my arms—never again to feel his cheek on mine.... O, +Death! your sting lies buried in the hearts of those who stay behind ... +and then to leave him there ... alone ... in the heavy silence of the +dead ... so cold ... all unresisting, his roguish laughter hushed ... +his lips, once red, now blue and drawn ... the wax-like lids shadowed +with heavy fringe ... my Boy ... my Boy ... whose coming we had +deplored, whose little life had so entwined itself about my heart as +made a part of me—the better part.... Well ... he had not tarried +long.... Boy ... <i>Boy</i>....</p> + +<p>In the overwhelming grief which had come to me, life appeared a void; a +vacuous, heavy-footed thing, with moments of suspended thought, a +merciful numbness of despair, a sound, a familiar sight, a rush of +memory, a freshet of tears, each overlapped the other, so fast they +followed. One of the unpardonable and most resented slights to those in +affliction is the even tenor with which the world wags on its way, +callous and indifferent. One<a name="page_268" id="page_268"></a> would have it stop, take heed, upheave.... +So, when Will announced that it were expedient to rejoin his company +almost immediately I felt a sacrilege was about to be committed. His +rôle was being played by an understudy, who, after the manner of +understudies, was neither prepared nor equal to the emergency which had +suddenly confronted him. Will urged me to accompany him, pointing out +that to remain in the apartment alone with ever-present reminders of my +loss were to nurse my grief and keep the wound always fresh</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr><td align="left">"Unnumbered cords, frail strands full fraught with pain,</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">That join the soul to things of time and sense."</td></tr> +</table> + +<p>The thought of leaving all that held the nearness of his spirit was +repugnant to me. I wanted to be alone with my grief. Gradually I came to +realize that it was for the best. Experience, too—simple, honest +soul—was shaken by the suddenness and swiftness of our loss. I decided +to send her to her home for a rest and change of scene. After all, what +did it matter where I went?... Boy was not there....</p> + +<p>The season dragged by, drab and comfortless. Will's devotion to me was +the only ray<a name="page_269" id="page_269"></a> of light in the murkiness of my spirit. Our common grief +had bridged the gulf between us. All the gentleness, the tenderness in +his nature seemed to revive. He never left me to accept invitations in +which he knew I could not share; something like the old camaraderie was +restored between us. I found a kind of balm in the thought that, if the +death of my son had been the means of bringing my husband and me closer +together, the sacrifice had not been in vain—and yet—and yet ... in +the inner consciousness of my heart I knew the truth: had I been called +upon to choose, the sacrifice had not been Boy. Truly, life is a +continuous compromise.</p> + +<p>The season ended, we returned to New York. Because we could not afford +to move—there being the usual deficit in the family budget—we opened +the apartment. To dwell upon the resurging pain which the reminders in +my home undammed were to make fetish of my grief. Neither did I ask +Experience to return. She, too, belonged to the past of things.</p> + +<p>Will had determined to leave his present management and seek new fields. +The company for the next season was to be curtailed and the cast +cheapened, an extended tour of<a name="page_270" id="page_270"></a> one-night stands. The summer was passed +in New York, and luckily, except for periodic waves of tropical heat, +the weather was not unendurable. Will spent a goodly part of his time at +the Lambs' Club, where he said he kept in touch with the activities of +the managerial world. The season promised to be backward. Plans appeared +to be slow of consummation. The tedium began to tell on Will's nerves +and his temper, especially when he found himself suspended from the +Lambs for non-payment of dues. None of his colleagues came to his +rescue. That the theatrical profession is a fraternal organization is +another of those popular fallacies. There can be no spirit of fraternity +in an overcrowded profession.</p> + +<p>It became expedient that Will appeal to his father for financial +assistance, a resort which he postponed as long as possible, since the +old gentleman invariably accompanied his grudging remittances with +advice, censure and no little contumely. Will could not understand why +he was not "snapped up" at once, so he expressed it. He had made good in +his last engagement, had kept himself well advertised (<i>vide</i> the +press-agent) and it would appear that, as a natural sequence, his +services should<a name="page_271" id="page_271"></a> be in demand. He commented on the statement made by +several managers, viz.: they had nothing in his line. It was evident +that in making a pronounced success in a certain <i>genre</i> of plays he had +become identified with the one type of hero and the managers could "see" +him in no other. Managers are, with rare exceptions, an unimaginative +lot. In no other way can one explain the deluge of plays patterned on +the same type: for example, let a manager by hit or miss produce +successfully a play built around the Far West, immediately there spring +up a dozen of the ilk. Or, again, let a play of farcical construction +score a hit; the public is immediately surfeited with a run of farces. +So with the actor. Let him once become identified with heroes of +romantic drama and the manager fears to entrust him with the dress-suit +rôle, and vice versa.</p> + +<p>More and more I was impressed with the ephemeral quality of the actor's +success. At best the actor's is an aleatory profession and, as in all +games of chance, the losses score highest.</p> + +<p>It was well along in the autumn when Will signed and immediately began +rehearsals. The star was a petulant little lady who, by grace of<a name="page_272" id="page_272"></a> her +marriage with a manager, had been hoisted to her present position, a +position to which she was not equal either by training, personality or +talent. For several seasons the husband-manager had invested—and +lost—large sums of money in the attempt to build up a following for his +wife. The present venture was a kind of last straw. That there was more +or less "feeling" between the couple was evinced by their frequent +<i>passages d'armes</i> of a personal nature, at rehearsals. Accustomed as he +was to the thoroughness of the stage-management under which he had +worked during the past two seasons, Will found the hit and miss methods +of his new affiliation disconcerting and irritating. In addition to +this, the husband-manager-director had a picturesque if not a literate +command of the language. He was in the habit of standing in the centre +aisle or at the back of the theatre and shouting his directions to the +members on the stage. When, as sometimes happened, a member resented the +manager's method of criticism in no uncertain terms, that personage +would back down and with tearful, if blasphemous, appeal explain +himself. On opening nights, in response to the persistent calls from the +claque, the manager<a name="page_273" id="page_273"></a> reluctantly (!) appeared before the curtain to bow +his acknowledgment—in shirt sleeves—his air of exhaustion contrasting +sharply with his jaws which worked a piece of chewing-gum like a +ticket-chopper in rush hours. It would seem that the vanity of actors is +not an exclusive attribute.</p> + +<p>The metropolitan reception of the play and star was not one of +unmitigated joy. The husband-manager, not liking the opinions of the +press, talked back both in print and from the stage. Two ghastly weeks +in New York, playing to a papered house or empty seats, and the company +took to the coal regions. Another fortnight was spent sparring for open +time, reluctantly doled out to the weak, and the company gave up the +ghost. Obviously Will had entered upon a cycle of bad luck. I took upon +myself to look for an engagement. Not only on account of the material +consideration, but because the emptiness and loneliness of my life had +become no longer endurable. Self-imposed tasks palled. My mind refused +to concentrate upon the line of study I had outlined. "And thus the +native hue of resolution is sickled o'er with the pale cast of thought." +The career I once planned for myself had been consigned to<a name="page_274" id="page_274"></a> the dump +heap of lost illusions. I could not touch the clay which once had +thrilled me with ambition.</p> + +<p>Will went about with me on my visits to various managers. He encouraged +me in my intention and I was glad to interest him, to take him out of +himself, as it were. His run of hard luck had preyed on his nerves and +frayed his temper. There was reason for me to suspect he was drinking +more than was good for him. Finally there came an offer of a small part +in a musical comedy which had settled down for a run in New York. The +fact that I was possessed of no great amount of vocal equipment did not +preclude me from the field. The manager intimated that what I lacked in +voice I made up in pulchritude, though I recall he referred to it as +"shape." The salary was to be thirty-five dollars a week. The gowns were +furnished—those worn by my predecessor—though I was called upon to +supply my own shoes, silk hose and gloves. In reality I was to be +nothing more than a show-girl, with a few lines to speak.</p> + +<p>Will was in front the night I made my début. After the performance we +went to a restaurant, there to talk it over. Congratulating<a name="page_275" id="page_275"></a> me on my +"getting away with it" and telling me how "peachy" I looked, he +laughingly predicted a line of Johnnies at the stage door, flowers, and +the usual perquisites of the chorus girl.... "If you weren't wise to the +game, I'd give you a few pointers," he said, ... "but" ... and here he +reached across the table and patted me on the hands.... "I reckon you're +equal to any situation, old pard.... Just sit tight until I again land +on my feet and then you can cut it out, if you like."</p> + +<p>I did not find myself subjected to any fierce onslaughts on the part of +the Johnnies or <i>viveurs</i> about town. Once or twice I received a note +accompanied with flowers. The former I destroyed; the latter I promptly +presented to the least pretty of my five dressing-room mates. She wore +them on the stage and made eyes at the donor, who occupied an upper box, +much to my amusement and to his confusion. I discouraged intimacies of +all kinds, with one exception. But of this more hereafter. The stage +director never attempted to chuck me under the chin or call me "baby," +as he did other members of the cast. I had had my little run-in with him +at rehearsal when he essayed to yell at me after the manner of his kind. +I<a name="page_276" id="page_276"></a> stopped short, the orchestra petered out in discord and, walking to +the apron of the stage, I modulated my voice, so that it reached him +quietly but effectively, where he stood in the back of the theatre. "Mr. +M——," I had said, "if you have any further suggestion to offer, you +will please do so in a less offensive manner. My hearing is good and I +believe I have the average amount of intelligence." There was an ominous +silence and the martinet started down the aisle. Behind me I heard a +buzz of approbation from the girls who had suffered at his hands. Just +why the bully changed his mind I never knew. At any rate the rehearsal +was continued. Later the manager chaffed me about the incident. The +manager was an undeveloped little person—as if some hereditary blight +had nipped him in the bud—distinctly Semitic in all his traits. Will +had known him from the time he had abandoned haberdashery for theatrical +management; indeed, I believe he had been a member of the manager's +first venture into the field.</p> + +<p>One feature which stands out most prominently in retrospect was my +adaptability to my surroundings. Conditions which once had shocked me no +longer left an impression. Obviously<a name="page_277" id="page_277"></a> the finer edge of my nature had +worn blunt. Things appeared to me in a kind of impersonal light. My +present path had been chosen from necessity; a part of the scheme of +things, yet a thing apart. The commonplace round of concerns and duties +went on, but life, real life, for the time being lay fallow. +Occasionally, when I caught myself dropping into the slang and jargon I +had absorbed from my fellow workers, I mused a bit and pulled myself up +with a sharp curb. But, as I have said, I was no longer disturbed or +impressed with conditions which once had sent the blood to my cheeks.</p> + +<p>The easy familiarity between the sexes which I had thought sufficiently +deplorable in the "legitimate" branch of the theatrical profession was +in the comic opera world flagrantly increased. I have heard a +distinction made between immorality and unmorality, but I fail to +observe any slight deviation from the general result. Vulgar stories, +steeped in smut, went the rounds. Each new one was welcomed and passed +down the line. If one betrayed her disapproval by ignoring the +<i>raconteur</i>, she was laughed down and thereafter referred to as "very +up-stage." In the dressing-rooms modesty<a name="page_278" id="page_278"></a> of person was an unknown +quantity. Not infrequently I found "extra" gentlemen performing lady's +maid service for one of the girls. On one occasion when I slipped on the +iron stairway leading to the stage, badly wrenching my ankle, a sturdy +stage-hand picked me up, carried me to my dressing-room, and, before I +realized what he was about, had pulled off my shoe and was in way of +removing my stocking when I protested. "O, well, if you're that fussy—" +he said as he went out....</p> + +<p>One of the most pernicious influences to be contended against by the +girl who tries to go straight is the never-ceasing topic of "men" and +"money." The man behind the bankroll is the basis, in one form or +another, of all the chorus-girl conversations. To be picked out by a man +of means to marry, or, failing this, to be set up in a "swell" apartment +and "put it all over" the girls of her acquaintance, is the hope which +springs eternal in the chorus-girl breast. Even in hard times, when the +champagne appetite needs must be quenched with beer, she dreams of +diamonds. Standing in the wings, waiting for the cue, one hears an +exchange of banter such as this: "Heard you<a name="page_279" id="page_279"></a> was at the Abbaye last +night.... Where'd you pick him up?... Say, don't you believe anything he +tells you! Henny knows all about him and he says that for a tight-wad +he's got Russell Sage skinned to death!" Or ... "I was at Morrisheimer's +to-day; they're havin' a sale of models. I gotta three-piece velvet suit +for thirty-five dollars, marked down from seventy." ... "Say! He must be +good to you. Why don't you introduce me to some of your gentlemen +friends?"</p> + +<p>I once asked a chorus girl of considerable notoriety how she had come to +enter the profession. "O," she replied, "my folks was the poor but +respectable kind. There was a big family of us, and I, bein' the oldest, +had to help out. I didn't get much schoolin' and, after tryin' half a +dozen things like bein' a chamber maid, waitin' in a restaurant and that +kind of business, I tumbled to the fact that I wusn't bad lookin'. +That's all I had; my face and my shape, and the stage was the best place +to show 'em."</p> + +<p>My dressing-room mates were typical show-girls; manièré, self-conscious +and always on parade. It was painfully evident they felt themselves +above the chorus, though some of<a name="page_280" id="page_280"></a> them were pleased to forget the fact +that they were but recently graduated from that class.</p> + +<p>One of these girls afterward married an English baronet. I have since +wondered what disposition was made of the baronet's mother-in-law. I +made her acquaintance in the dressing-room one evening, whither she had +come to mend her daughter's wardrobe. She was a splendid specimen of the +complaisant stage-mamma. Clad in rusty black, her portly figure bulging +from ill-fitting stays, one might mistake her for the type of +scrub-woman one sees about the large office buildings of early mornings, +but never, never would one suspect her of being the mother of this +near-Vere-de-Vere. Voluble to a point of madness, she would acquaint you +with the family history, the cause and intimate details of her husband's +untimely taking off and the great hopes she entertained for her +daughter's "getting on." Sometimes she brought with her the youngest of +her offspring, a little girl of six who had already made her début as a +child-actress. Like all children of the stage, she was precocious and +most unchild-like. In the enactment of laws which are aimed to protect +the child-labourer, an attempt is being made to bring about an exemption +of their<a name="page_281" id="page_281"></a> application to the stage-child. That the child-actor receives +better pay, that he or she works less hours and under more sanitary +surroundings than do children in other trades and professions, cannot be +gainsaid. But is the economic welfare of the child the prime and only +consideration? Is the physical protection the one and uppermost +consummation to be desired? What of the spiritual, the moral side of the +stage-child? If environment bear the strong influence on human life we +are led to believe, then should the stage-child be removed from its +infectious surroundings. The old saw to the effect of pitch and +defilement is here most applicable.</p> + +<p>I have referred elsewhere to the exception I made in my discouragement +of intimacies. On that morning at rehearsal when I had resented the +stage-director's mode of criticism, among others who had approved my act +was a girl whose face had at once attracted me. She was pretty and of +less common type than the chorus averages. There was something +individual about her. Her appearance was neat and I had observed that +her clothes were neither so new nor so extreme as were those of her +colleagues. Also I was impressed with a quiet<a name="page_282" id="page_282"></a> refinement of manner and +her usage of good English. As we became better acquainted she sometimes +waited for me after the performance and we walked together to the +underground station, where our lines diverged. Later I had asked her to +dine with me on a Sunday when Will was away on a week-end motor trip. +She appeared to enjoy the home atmosphere and visited with me in the +kitchen while I was preparing dinner. Feeling that with our reduced +income we could not afford it, I had dispensed with a servant. And as +Will rarely, if ever, dined at home, my housekeeping duties were not +onerous.</p> + +<p>"This is what I have always longed for—a little home all my own," Leila +had remarked, smiling wistfully.... It was after dinner and we had +settled ourselves for a chat.</p> + +<p>"Then, in the name of common sense, dear girl, why did you go on the +stage? Home life and a stage career are as antipodal as the poles."</p> + +<p>"And yet you manage to blend the two rather charmingly," she retorted.</p> + +<p>"Absurd! I'm not trying for a career, and as for home life ... my dear +child, it's the merest pretense. Half the time we are not at<a name="page_283" id="page_283"></a> home and +the flat has either to be let or remain closed. One never knows from day +to day when the furniture will be packed off to storage."</p> + +<p>"Yes ... I presume you are right.... How did I come to go on the +stage?... Well, I suppose it was because I wanted a career of some +kind.... I wanted to <i>do something</i>; you know how empty and shallow the +average girl's life is, with the endless round of parties, visits, fancy +work and that sort of thing. I was an only daughter, too. Father was +well-to-do and wrapped up in the affairs of the small city in which we +lived. After he died, mother thought she would like to travel. We went +abroad. It was over there that the idea of a career took a stronger hold +on me. About the only talent I could lay any claim to was music. I had +always played and sung at our home concerts and church sociables.... But +mother didn't encourage me in my ambitions. She argued that, since +father had left us comfortably fixed, why should I want to worry my head +about work? Besides, she said my first duty was to her as long as she +<a name="page_284" id="page_284"></a>lived. So there it rested.... We just drifted from place to place ... +vegetating...."</p> + +<p>"Some parents are like that," I commented.</p> + +<p>Leila rested her chin in her palms and went on.... "After mother died I +resolved to go after that career. I returned abroad to study...." She +chuckled a little, probably, at the remembrance.... "Of course, the +<i>teachers</i> said I had a great future ahead of me ... with application +and patience ... infinite patience. Meanwhile I must study—and pay +exorbitant prices for my tuition. The income which had been ample for my +needs heretofore did not go very far under the new régime. I found it +necessary to cut into the capital, realizing the danger of such a move, +but soothing my fears with the dream of my great future.... Well, honey, +the splendid career as you see has ended in the chorus.... And, what's +more, I'm living on my salary." She picked up Will's guitar and began +strumming on it. "What I can't understand," she continued after a while, +"what I feel most is the fact that I don't seem able to pull myself out +of it. I see other girls lifting themselves to better positions; I know +I can sing better than any one of them.... There was Miss Nelson whom +you succeeded. As soon as I heard she was to retire I went to the +manager and asked for her place. He<a name="page_285" id="page_285"></a> sent me to the musical director, +who heard me sing, commented favorably and said he would report to the +manager. That was the last I heard of it until rehearsal was called and +I learned that you had been engaged.... Tell me, honestly, what's the +matter with me? Why don't I get on? Is it because I haven't any <i>pull</i> +or because—" She did not finish her sentence, but switched to +another.... "Take our prima donna for example: three years ago she was +playing a part not bigger than yours. Now look at her! My voice is as +good as hers, if not better, but I can't get them to let me even +understudy her." ...</p> + +<p>A vision of the prima donna passed before my eye; an insipidly pretty +woman whose sudden rise to fame had turned her empty little head. Vain, +impetuous, over-keyed, already the marks of dissipation were leaving +their indelible stamp. Whenever I saw her, resplendent in sables, +dangling her jewelled gold-mesh purse, my mind reverted to a well-known +club-man's comment on virtue: "I always measure the chastity of the +unprotected female by the size of her gold-mesh bag; the larger the bag +the less the virtue."</p> + +<p>Leila, bent on relieving her mind and heart,<a name="page_286" id="page_286"></a> went on: "When I went into +the chorus it was a choice between that and Macy's. Of course I'd heard +things about the life, but I told myself that a girl who wants to can go +straight in any walk of life. I had all those copy-book maxims at the +tip of my tongue: 'Virtue is its own reward,' and 'Then let us be up and +doing, with a heart for any fate; still achieving, still pursuing, learn +to labour and to wait,' or something like that.... Willie Stewart—you +know the little black-eyed girl who plays next to me on the left—it was +she who gave me my first eye-opener. Seeing that I was new at the +business, she came to me shortly after we opened and asked me if I +didn't want to meet some gentlemen; that she had been asked to bring +some of the girls with her to a beefsteak party which was to be pulled +off that night. I thanked her and told her I did not care to go. Willie +squinted her eyes a little in sizing me up, then treated me to the +following advice: 'Look here, angel child, you'd better go back to home +and mother. This is no place for a minister's daughter. If you haven't +got sense enough to take a chance when it's brought to you on a silver +tray—well, all I've got to say is that you're in wrong. Managers want +the<a name="page_287" id="page_287"></a> girls that are popular and the way to be popular is to mingle. Just +remember that you don't get anything for nothing in this business or in +no other, as far as I've been able to observe. It's give up—<i>give up +all along the line</i> and it's only the foxy dame that gets what's comin' +to her, even then!'"</p> + +<p>"Willie has a very large gold bag, I have noticed," I said.</p> + +<p>"And a sealskin coat," Leila added. Then she jumped to her feet and +struck at the sofa pillows viciously.... "It isn't the clothes and that +sort of thing that appeal to me. It isn't the fact that I'm living in a +dingy little room and trying to make ends meet; I'd live on a box of +Uneeda Biscuits a day if I saw any hope, the faintest ray of hope that I +could win out clean, on merit alone, in the end.... Sometimes I think +I'm wrong and that they are right—"</p> + +<p>"Leila! You don't think anything of the sort! You know you are right! +Hold on a little while longer; you're sure to win! Why, with a voice +like yours, and your beauty, I should feel so sure of winning that +nothing else would matter—and it doesn't, Leila, nothing else really +counts if you live up to the best<a name="page_288" id="page_288"></a> that's in you!" I had worked myself +up to a state of enthusiasm where I almost believed my own words. I took +her by the shoulders and held her at arm's length. We looked into each +other's eyes, each trying to pierce the veil behind which are concealed +our true thoughts.</p> + +<p>It was nearing the holidays when Will signed for the engagement which +was destined to play such an important rôle in our future lives. The +star was of foreign origin, with a fascinating accent and a steadily +increasing reputation for eroticism. Under the guise of "high-brow" +drama she revelled in the portrayal of abnormal femininity. Her +adeptness in "suggestive" scenes, to which she lent a startling +verisimilitude, soon gained for her a large, if not altogether +intellectual, following. Will was not altogether satisfied with his +rôle, but what actor ever is? I consoled him with the fact that the +salary was good and that but little of the present season remained.</p> + +<p>With Will on the road, left to myself in the empty apartment, the blue +devils renewed their lease. And when the approach of the Christmas +season began to manifest itself in shop-windows and in holiday rush, my +heartache increased manifold. Leila and I were<a name="page_289" id="page_289"></a> much together in those +days. My little friend's increasing depression, instead of augmenting my +own, acted as a spur to brighter moods. Together we made the round of +the shops or tramped through the snow in Central Park. Sometimes we +lingered to watch the young people skating on the ice; again we hitched +ourselves to sleds to the merriment of small folk. Coming home alone +from a matinée I would find myself following a party of children out on +an ante-holiday survey. Standing close to them I listened to their +prattle and eager expectancy of a visit from Santa Claus.... If the +tears came I swallowed hard. No one was near to heed. In the seclusion +of my home I fought it out alone.</p> + +<p>It had been my intention to carry a box of flowers to the dear one's +grave on Christmas morning. Passing one day through a wretched quarter +of the East Side in search of a dilatory laundress, my steps halted in +front of a cheap toy-shop. Beside me stood a small boy, clinging to the +hand of an older girl, their eyes riveted upon the display within. With +one grimy little hand, stiff and rough from the cold, the small man +smeared the tears from his eyes and snivelled. His threadbare coat, +sizes too<a name="page_290" id="page_290"></a> large for his meagre frame, his toes showing through his +shoes. The girl's face was peaked and old, as if the despair of life had +already left its stamp. There was something infinitely tender in the way +she held the boy close to her, mutely comforting his grief, her eyes +meeting half defiantly the tinselled magnet of the shop-window, her lips +compressed to stop their mutinous tremble. When at last I brought myself +to break in upon their thoughts, they looked at me like startled +fawns....</p> + +<p>The overture was on when I rushed into the theatre that afternoon. With +Leila's help I was in time for my cue. And it was with Leila's help that +I dressed the toys and trimmed the tree and between us, late on +Christmas Eve, we toted a big basket on and off the cars, up the dingy +stairs where Maggie kept house for "me brudder" while their mother went +out to work.... It was Boy's offering, not mine....<a name="page_291" id="page_291"></a></p> + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XVII" id="CHAPTER_XVII"></a>CHAPTER XVII</h3> + +<p class="nind">C<small>OMING</small> out of the stage door after the performance one night shortly +after the New Year, the back-door keeper met me with the information +that a gentleman was waiting to see me. Before I could frame a reply a +bulky figure emerged from the gloom. I recognized Mr. F. of Chicago. +There was something akin to embarrassment in the way he proffered his +hand, though his grip was not lacking in geniality. Of the two I was the +more self-possessed. To my polite inquiries about his family he murmured +something about their being all right, he guessed, and abruptly changed +the subject by asking me to "come jump in a taxi and let's go somewhere +for a bite of supper." I did not understand why I so readily acquiesced. +On the way to Rector's—he himself having made the choice of +restaurant—we exchanged amenities. I believe I deplored the fact that I +was not dressed for the occasion, and he had replied with a flattering +speech intended<a name="page_292" id="page_292"></a> to salve my vanity. After he had ordered the most +expensive items on the menu, he settled back in his chair, toyed with +his fork, looked at me searchingly, then broke out laughing. The +laughter was not pleasant to the ear; it left an unpleasant +apprehension. He leaned across the table with a confidential air and +smiled quizzically....</p> + +<p>"Do you remember the last time we had supper together?"</p> + +<p>I nodded and coaxed a smile.</p> + +<p>"Perfectly," I responded.</p> + +<p>A silence, while Mr. F. traced strange hieroglyphics on the napery. +After a while he tossed aside the fork with the air of one casting off +unpleasant memories, and settled back in his chair.</p> + +<p>"Tell me about yourself," he commanded. "How is the world using you? +What in the name of wonder ever took you on the comic opera stage? I +couldn't believe my own eyes when I spotted you to-night, and, of +course, the name on the programme meant nothing to me. I shook my +friends as soon as the performance was over and interviewed the +back-door keeper. He told me you were Mrs. Hartley in private life.... +Well, what's the answer?"<a name="page_293" id="page_293"></a></p> + +<p>"There's nothing mysterious about my present occupation. Mr. Hartley +hasn't been especially lucky this season, and when a chance to help out +a bit presented itself I took it ... that's all.... I presume you know +that we lost our boy...."</p> + +<p>"Yes—yes ... I knew, of course." His tone was curt, but I understood +his reluctance to dwell upon the subject. The return of the waiter ended +a painful silence. After that Mr. F. kept up a running fire of gossip +and questions about stage life. But beneath the surface I sensed and +lent him tacit aid in his effort to steer clear of the topic I knew to +be uppermost in his mind. From time to time rumours of a fresh rupture +with his wife had reached me. In fact, it was Will who had acquainted me +with the news of their final estrangement. He confided the details of +the lady's latest excursion into the realm of the illicit, with the +sententious air of, "There! Didn't I predict what would happen?" and a +shrug of the shoulders. I am not sure that it was not Will's intent to +sympathize with himself as a victim of circumstances over which he had +no control. Indeed, the occasional bursts of confidences which he thrust +upon me, and in which he discussed quite<a name="page_294" id="page_294"></a> frankly the indiscretions of +certain lion-hunting ladies, were made, I felt, with the hope of +impressing upon me the pitfalls with which a man in his profession is +surrounded. Or was it vanity, or a desire to fan the old flame of +passion he once had aroused—a passion, which, if the paraphrase is +pardonable, was now "tame and waited on judgment?"</p> + +<p>In some way—I am not certain how it came about, since "made" +conversation is at best disjointed and lacks in sequence—a random +remark inspired a challenge from Mr. F., who offered to lay a bet that I +was in the wrong. "O, no," I had replied, "I don't want you to lose; +besides, you do not pay your gambling debts promptly. Do you know you +never sent me that box of candy I won from you in Cincinnati? Mr. F.... +you're not a good sport!" With a shock I realized I was in shallow +waters.... He looked at me with his eyes narrowed to mere slits.... +"Well, little woman, I can't say that of you, can I?... I can't say that +you're not a good sport—after that performance in Cincinnati." ...</p> + +<p>I flushed but made a heroic effort to control my voice. "I don't think I +follow you." Mr. F. beat up the bubbles in his glass and watched<a name="page_295" id="page_295"></a> them +come to the surface before he answered.</p> + +<p>"Of course you've heard about her latest affair with that Italian opera +singer.... Well, I caught her with the goods this time.... For the sake +of the children I'm letting her get the divorce...." He left off +frowning and contemplated me with an amused smile. "Say, little woman, +you did put it all over me there in Cincinnati, didn't you?... I suppose +you're wondering how I got wise to it? Well, I wrung the confession out +of her; I wouldn't let her get the divorce until she told me the truth, +and then I checked it up through her sister, who's a pretty good +sort.... All my life I've had a deep-rooted respect for a game sport.... +When I look at that pretty little face of yours and think of the job you +cooked up at a moment's notice—well, I take off my hat to you, that's +all!... Look here, little woman: if anything ever goes wrong between you +and handsome Bill—and by Gad! I thought it had when I saw you on the +stage to-night—if ever you need a friend, just tap the wires. There's +my club address ... and, little lady—don't be afraid that I'll ask +anything in return—do you follow me? I'm not any better than<a name="page_296" id="page_296"></a> the rest +of my kind, but I think I know the real thing when I meet it."</p> + +<p>While donning my wraps in the cloak-room some time later, I was +surprised to see my little friend Leila enter and present her coat-check +to the maid. She flushed a little in surprise as she greeted me: "Why, +Mrs. Hartley! I didn't know you were here! Where were you sitting? Why +didn't you tell me you were coming?"</p> + +<p>"I didn't know myself. I found an old acquaintance waiting, and of +course he wanted to see 'where the soubrettes hang out.'"</p> + +<p>"How funny! My coming was unexpected, too. I'll tell you all about it +to-morrow." She hurried away, a little eagerly, I thought. As I passed +out in response to a beckon from Mr. F. I saw Leila being helped into a +handsome fur coat.</p> + +<p>I told myself it was none of my business; that Leila knew perfectly well +what she was doing and that any amount of advice from me would not only +not be acted upon, but would be resented. Already she avoided me. To my +pleadings that I was lonely—would she not dine with me at my home?—she +responded with ever-ready but piffling excuses and subterfuges.<a name="page_297" id="page_297"></a> I would +see her emerge from her dressing-room after the performance, prettily +dressed, get into a waiting taxicab and be whirled away. The situation +preyed on my mind. Once I took courage in both hands and called at her +lodging-house only to be told that Miss Moore had moved away a month +since. I got the new address from the back-door keeper, and when my +little friend was out of the cast through illness I seized the +opportunity to call on her.</p> + +<p>It was one of those smaller apartment hotels in the West Forties; I was +taken up in the elevator without challenge. The coloured maid who +cautiously opened the door said she did not know whether her mistress +would see me. Something in my manner, however, caused her to stand aside +and let me enter. The rooms were tastefully if cheaply furnished. Leila +was lying on a couch, propped with pillows and clad in a dainty silk +kimono. She was taken by surprise and flushed a little as she extended +her hand. The maid placed a chair for me.</p> + +<p>"I—I thought you had forgotten me," she stammered as I offered the +flowers I had brought. "How good of you!"</p> + +<p>"They're only seconds, Leila, but the best I<a name="page_298" id="page_298"></a> could afford." And, +compared to the big American Beauties reposing in a vase near at hand, +they certainly did look shop-worn.</p> + +<p>"It's a beastly day, isn't it? Let me send for a cup of tea or maybe +you'd like a high-ball...."</p> + +<p>I declined both. The maid disappeared. Leila squirmed about on her +pillows....</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry to see you ill, Leila," I ventured by way of breaking the +ice.</p> + +<p>"O, I'm not really ill ... only a slight cold. I'm a bit run down and +the Judge—that is—the doctor thought I should rest for a while. I'm +not going back to the theatre this season.... It's awfully good of you +to bother about me...."</p> + +<p>"Leila?" I said finally.... "Leila, is it worth it?"</p> + +<p>"Is what worth——"....</p> + +<p>"All this." I indicated the apartment, the piano, the silk négligée—and +the ring on her finger.... "Is it worth the price you are paying?" I +asked gently. She lifted her shoulders.</p> + +<p>"I don't know!" Her tone was half question, half defiance.... "I <i>do</i> +know that the other way wasn't worth the sacrifices, the<a name="page_299" id="page_299"></a> scrimping and +mean pinching. I couldn't go on like that—I couldn't! I am young; I +want some of the good things of life while I am still young ... and I +was lonely. I didn't fit into my environment."</p> + +<p>"I understand, Leila.... Perhaps I appreciate the loneliness, the +rebellion, better than you think.... You see other girls enjoying the +good things of life and apparently happy. But, after all, happiness is +purely relative, and what makes for their happiness might not make for +yours. Leila, dear girl, couldn't you make up your mind to stick it out +just a little while longer?... Things were sure to come your way—or, +perhaps, you would meet the right man and marry and settle down in the +little home of your own which you told me you have always craved."</p> + +<p>"The right kind of men don't marry chorus girls. The exceptions are +rare. And what manner of men are they who <i>do</i> marry a girl out of the +chorus? Old worn-out roués, almost senile from the debauched lives they +have led. They crave something young and fresh as an elixir of life. +Sometimes it's a young blood with money; a black sheep of the family who +drinks and sports, and in the end there's<a name="page_300" id="page_300"></a> divorce if nothing worse.... +I couldn't marry a man like either of these.... It's a mistake to be too +fastidious...."</p> + +<p>"Is—is—he married?"</p> + +<p>"He—O.... Yes, he's married—in a way. His wife and he have not really +lived together for years. For the sake of the family they keep up +appearances.... She doesn't understand him...."</p> + +<p>"Did <i>he</i> tell you that—and you <i>believe</i> it?"</p> + +<p>"But I know it's true! You'd believe it, too, if ever you were to see +her. He married her when he was young and poor."</p> + +<p>"I presume they loved each other then; she probably pinched and scrimped +in those days to help him—to help him get where he is to-day."</p> + +<p>"I don't know anything about that, of course. But I do know that I +admire him; he has a wonderful mind. It's a privilege to be associated +with a man like him. If you knew him, you would not think so badly of +the—the arrangement."</p> + +<p>I left my chair to sit beside her on the couch.</p> + +<p>"Dear girl," I said, slipping my hand in hers, "Don't misunderstand me. +I'm not sitting in judgment, neither am I criticizing you.<a name="page_301" id="page_301"></a> But I want +you to think of the future. Have you ever thought of the time when you +will be no longer young? Have you never observed that type of woman one +finds hanging around restaurants or hotel corridors, hoping to pick up a +man, any man, it doesn't matter what kind of a man so long as he has a +little money? These women are getting along in years, taking on flesh, +hiding the ravages of time and dissipation with rouge, hair-dyes and +more dissipation. They are fighting life and getting the worst of it, +having put into life only their worst: thrown from one man's arms into +another's: down the line—always down grade, lower and lower +until—until what remains? The streets, the work-house, or suicide.... +Have you thought of that?"</p> + +<p>"No! <i>No! No!</i>—and I don't want to think of it!" She pounded her fists +vehemently together.... "I'm tired of thinking of the future! I've done +nothing all my life but think and live in the future—and now I'm going +to get what there is—all there is—out of the present, if it's only a +pretty gown, only a bright flower! What incentive has a girl like me to +<a name="page_302" id="page_302"></a>be good? Go away! Go away, please, and don't bother about me!" ...</p> + +<p>As I walked up Fifth Avenue on my way home, the shops and various +dressmaking establishments were disgorging their workers: pale girls, +for the most part, poorly clad. Here and there one prettier than the +rest, showing in her dress the innate love of display; passing the +well-dressed saunterer along the way with a pert glance, an inviting +eye; dreaming of the silks she had handled all day; longing for the +comforts of life which money alone can buy.... After all, is it a +question of morals or economics which leads these girls astray? As my +little friend had put it, "What incentive have they to go straight?"<a name="page_303" id="page_303"></a></p> + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XVIII" id="CHAPTER_XVIII"></a>CHAPTER XVIII</h3> + +<p class="nind">W<small>ILL'S</small> season closed early. My own promised to run well into the summer +months. Will's return was marked by a happier frame of mind and a +corresponding good humour. He had been re-engaged for the coming year, +and the fact that his maternal grandmother had recently died and left +him a small legacy, which would be made over to him during the summer, +relieved his mind of the worry over money matters which had been +oppressing him. With characteristic prodigality he invested in a +complete new wardrobe—to be paid for when the legacy arrived. Also he +contemplated buying a motor-car, though I endeavoured to point out to +him that a trip abroad would be a better investment, if spend his money +he must.</p> + +<p>It was well along in June when—with a silent <i>Te Deum</i>—I saw the +notice posted. One of those periods of tropical heat had descended upon +New York and brought the run of the opera to an abrupt close. It was a +welcome<a name="page_304" id="page_304"></a> relief to be allowed to remain at home for days at a time. I +set about to refurnish my summer wardrobe. With the acquisition of an +automobile still pending in his mind, Will spent much of his time away +from home, trying out various makes of cars.</p> + +<p>It was during one such week-end hejira that John Gailbraith returned +from abroad. He had only that morning disembarked, and after settling +himself in a downtown hotel had come to call on us. I hailed his advent +with delight. Our long talks, the exchange of ideas, his alert mind +refreshed and stimulated my own. Will once laughingly remarked that I +had developed into a veritable human question mark. But in no other way +could I induce our friend to talk about himself or his art. He had +travelled much and when once started on the subject would retail his +experiences in foreign lands. My interest was kept on the <i>qui vive</i>. +Then there was his work and achievement. Long were the discussions and +criticisms of the "Super-creation" and the thoughts and ideas which had +led to its conception.</p> + +<p>As yet, I had not been inclined to resume my own work which my son's +death had caused me to lay aside. Now, under the influence of my<a name="page_305" id="page_305"></a> +master's encouragement and sympathy, the old ambition quickened. As the +summer progressed we came to see a great deal of John Gailbraith. +Indeed, he became a part of our daily life. A genuineness which made +itself felt, a cleanliness of mind and speech, together with a quiet +humour and a gift of sympathetic understanding, endeared him to his +friends. Will shared my feeling, else he had not thrown us so +continuously together.</p> + +<p>"John Gailbraith is one of the few men in the world to whom I would +entrust my wife's honour," he had said one day. I had chided Will for so +repeatedly throwing me upon our friend for amusement or companionship. +It had become a common thing for Will to hail his friend thus: "Old man, +if you haven't anything better to do to-night, take my missus out to +dinner, will you? I have an engagement to hear a play read," or, "I say, +Jack old boy, look after the missus while I'm away. I've been asked to +go on a motor-trip for a few days and I know it's punishment to drag the +poor girl along." (Parenthetically Will rarely asked me to join him on +these motor-trips.) It was on such an occasion that I had reproved Will +for saddling John Gailbraith with a responsibility<a name="page_306" id="page_306"></a> which may not have +been to his liking. "There may be other friends to whom he may wish to +devote himself; besides is it wise that I be seen so continually in his +company and without my husband? You know how malicious the world is. +People will say——"</p> + +<p>"O, Hell! I believe with Bernard Shaw: 'They say—what do they say? Let +them say!' People will always find something to criticize. So long as I +am satisfied it's nobody's business. I'm not afraid, girlie, of anyone +taking you away from me." And he dismissed the subject.</p> + +<p>My husband not only encouraged the idea of my working under the guiding +hand of the sculptor but developed an enthusiasm which quite took away +my breath. In one of his impulsive moods he rented a studio from an +artist member of the Players' Club, who was planning to go abroad for a +year. "It's just the thing she needs; something to occupy her mind. +Besides, any little pleasure I can throw her way is coming to her, after +the way she stood by when I was down on my luck. It isn't every wife who +can support her husband, is it, old man?" And Will slipped his arm +about<a name="page_307" id="page_307"></a> my shoulders with an amused wink. He was in high humour these +days.</p> + +<p>There was a great scrubbing and cleaning before I pronounced the studio +habitable. Will said I was not a true artist. I failed to find art and +dirt synonymous or mutually connotating each the other.</p> + +<p>The building which housed the studio was in a small street or, more +properly, an area-way in the vicinity of lower Fifth Avenue within a +stone's throw of Washington Square. John Gailbraith said it was his +favourite part of the city. It came to be mine. Sometimes, after we had +taken luncheon at a near-by restaurant, we would stroll in the square or +sit on one of the benches. Our lounging neighbours were interesting +studies in real life. John would point out the various foreign types and +compare them with their countrymen on their native heath. At other times +I would have our recently acquired cook-lady prepare a dainty lunch +basket, which I carried to the studio, and at the noon-hour, while John +made the tea, I laid the table. Here we would linger, absorbed in the +discussion which with passing days grew more frank and intimate. I no +longer felt cramped or warped. Expansion<a name="page_308" id="page_308"></a> had become an almost +measurable sensation. During our vari-toned <i>pour-parler</i>, one subject +was by seemingly tacit consent taboo. No reference or allusion was ever +made to my conjugal affairs. Whatever John Gailbraith thought or knew +concerning Will's peccadillos, he gave no intimation. It was not +possible that he had not heard of my husband's various <i>liaisons</i>. In +fact, Will, himself, made no attempt to conceal the attentions of +certain women who rang up at his home under flimsiest pretence. He joked +lightly about their indiscretions and commented on the fact that he "was +getting to be the real thing in the way of a matinée idol." The period +following upon my son's death when Will had devoted himself to me with +something of the sweetness of our early married life was short-lived. +And if I closed my eyes and ears to the recurring lapses of his fidelity +it was because I still hoped that some day he would need my love. +Whether John Gailbraith believed there was an understanding between my +husband and me I could only surmise. To have him regard me in the light +of a complaisant wife gave me many uncomfortable moments, yet I could +not touch upon the subject. The truth lovingly told is<a name="page_309" id="page_309"></a> that I came +nearer to being happy during those summer months than I had been +for—how many years had passed since Will and I had set up housekeeping +in the little furnished flat of halcyon days?...</p> + +<p>When Will's absence from home became more frequent and of long duration +I exerted myself to greet his return with a pleasant word and a serene +face. And if, sometimes, I felt John's eyes upon me—those great gray +eyes with large iris and the black fringed lids—I strove the harder to +dissemble.</p> + +<p>Sometimes Will would swoop down on us with a noisy party in tow and +insist upon an impromptu dinner in the workshop. The suggestion was +invariably hailed with delight by the women, who regarded the studio as +an open sesame to forbidden fruit and free speech, while to the men it +connoted models in the nude and bacchanalia.</p> + +<p>On one occasion Will brought his star to see the minute whirling figure +the sculptor had but recently completed in refutation of the criticism +that his work was effective only in large design. Posing as a +<i>connoisseur</i>, the lady had expressed the wish to see John's work. I +think I hated her at first glance. There was<a name="page_310" id="page_310"></a> something snake-like even +in the movement of her body and in the craning of her long, thin neck +from which a sharp jaw projected. She fascinated while she repelled. +Being temperamentally reserved in the presence of strangers—and the +lady temperamentally interested in the opposite sex—I had an +opportunity to study her. My scrutiny was not unobserved. Indeed, she +was always conscious of self, though apparently not self-conscious.</p> + +<p>In the act of taking her leave she stopped quite suddenly and addressed +herself to me: "And so you are <i>Meesus</i> Hartley.... What fine eyes you +have ... such ... what <i>ees</i> the word? Yes, tangled, tangled depths ... +and the shadows!... If I were a man I should make love to <i>Meesus</i> +Hartley...." She shot a glance at John Gailbraith, then dropped her lids +over her eyes. But the suggestion was not lost. It was not meant to be.</p> + +<p>"Madame has a pleasing way of expressing herself," I drawled, meeting +the much affected wide baby stare of her orbs with a like expression. +Suggestion is insidiously effective. From the moment my husband's star +had dropped the seed—thoughtlessly or maliciously, who shall say?—it +took root. The calm surface over<a name="page_311" id="page_311"></a> which I had been gliding during the +past months ruffled and disturbed my equilibrium. The old <i>camaraderie</i> +between John Gailbraith and me gave way to self-consciousness on my +part. I felt what I imagined might have been the sensation which +overwhelmed Mother Eve after eating of the Tree of Knowledge. For the +first time during our intercourse I looked upon John Gailbraith as +man—myself, woman. I caught myself expecting, anticipating, parrying +any indication on his part which might be construed as a prelude to +tenderness. My attitude became constrained, unnatural; his, more +gracious, gentle, tactful. Perhaps he analyzed my mood as the natural +result of gossip which connected my husband's name with that of the +"star." That he pitied me heaped coals of fire upon my head—and his. I +was glad of the opportunity which took him to Washington in response to +a letter from a prospective patron and left me to myself.</p> + +<p>With mathematical precision I questioned myself: Why should I permit the +insinuations of a not disinterested woman to mar a friendship which had +become dear to me and which I had hoped to retain all my life? Was +friendship between persons of opposite sex not possible?<a name="page_312" id="page_312"></a> Can there be +no relationship between man and woman disassociated from sex? Had this +man by look or word professed other than friendship for me? Had I +professed or felt any emotion other than which I indicated? Then why +permit the bond to be severed by a wholly suppositious breach? I +resolved that upon John's return to the city I should take up the thread +where I had left off. There was consolation in the determination.</p> + +<p>The time had arrived when I was to begin the nude of Boy in marble. It +was to be my winter's work and I was eager to be well advanced with it +before John went abroad again. I looked forward to his going with +genuine regret. More and more Will had estranged himself from me: +whether deliberately or not I was not prepared to answer. The relentless +examination continued. What was it which held me to my husband? Did I +still love him despite his infidelities, his ever-increasing neglect and +selfishness? Or was it the tender memories of our youthful love at whose +altar I worshipped, feeding the smouldering embers with incense of +bruised and crushed illusions? Might I not, after all, with patience, +devotion, tolerance and a single-heartedness of purpose<a name="page_313" id="page_313"></a> lead his +wandering steps back to me? If life was barren now, what should it be +without him? No, I must find my solace in my pride in him; must squeeze +what comfort I might in helping him on to success; always with the +hope—hope!—the promise-crammed!</p> + +<p>It had become a custom of mine to carry my perturbation of heart and +mind to my boy's grave; there, in the silence and the nothingness of +life, to find a balm and fortitude. It was upon such a mission I set out +one day late in September. Under the early autumn haze the meadows lay +carpeted with golden rod and fleecy lace of the Queen's handkerchief. +Soothed by this tryst with my loved one I returned to town prepared to +take up the battle. Arriving at the Grand Central Station I decided to +telephone to Will's club with the hope of finding he had returned during +my absence. Stopping to pay the toll I glanced listlessly around the +waiting-room. A familiar figure caused me to start forward, then draw +back. There, coming through the station was my husband and his "star." +From the handbags he carried—one of which I recognized as his—it was +evident that they had come direct from the train. I recalled that Will +had mentioned<a name="page_314" id="page_314"></a> the fact that the star had recently bought a country +residence. And, too, it recurred to me that, when on Saturday night Will +had telephoned me that he was at a Turkish bath and would remain there +all day, his voice had a far-away sound to it, as if the message were at +long distance. Sunday and Monday had passed with no word from him. I now +understood where he had been.... I watched them drive away in a +hansom.... Then I took a car home.<a name="page_315" id="page_315"></a></p> + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XIX" id="CHAPTER_XIX"></a>CHAPTER XIX</h3> + +<p class="nind">I<small>T</small> had never before suggested itself to me that divorce was the only +solution. Divorce had always appeared to me an acknowledgment of +failure—failure of married life. When my son was taken from me I had +cherished the delusion that our differences lay buried in his grave; +that an adjustment of our married life was imminent.... Divorce! To give +him his freedom; to turn me upon the world without anchor, ballast or +compass.... A kind of terror took possession of me—not the terror of +being thrown upon my own resources for a livelihood, since I was not +dependent upon my husband for maintenance, a consideration which +prevents many women from severing a bond which has become repugnant to +them—but the terror of loneliness. I had already tasted of this +bitterness—was I now to be surfeited with it? If only Boy had been +spared to me! O, God, the pity of it all!... And yet, there was no other +way.<a name="page_316" id="page_316"></a> To carry on the farce of married relationship; to submit to him, +feeling only revulsion, repugnance, was nothing short of prostitution. +And had I not already prostituted the best that was in me? Already the +corroding influences around me had begun to tell. Even John Gailbraith +had noticed the change in me and had alluded to it under the veil of +kindly intent. If I were to save anything from the wreckage I must begin +now, at once—before it was too late. I had seen women, good women, +stronger women than myself, break under the strain of neglect and +loneliness.... Well, I should not break. Pride should sustain me.... The +future ... no, I dared not yet think of the future. It made me quail and +falter in my purpose—a purpose I determined to make known to my husband +on his return.</p> + +<p>Arriving at the studio the next morning earlier than was my custom (Will +had not yet put in an appearance and the delay but strengthened my +purpose), I found that John had not yet returned from breakfast. His +small sleeping-quarters, giving upon the studio proper, were open and, +without meaning to be curious, I paused in the doorway. A charcoal<a name="page_317" id="page_317"></a> +sketch caught my eye. It was my own likeness. Scattered about the room +were other sketches in various stages of development. I turned away, +closing the door behind me. A warm flush suffused my being. I told +myself it was shame at having intruded where I had not been bidden.... +The various models of my son stood about the room and beckoned me. I ran +my fingers over the little head, the pouting lips, and laid my cheek to +his in silent salutation. The flood-gates strained and throbbed, +threatening to break through.... A hand closed over mine.... I knew the +hand.... In my complete immersion of thought I had not heard him come +in.... I bent and pressed my lips upon his hand.... We stood looking at +each other. Something of the shock I felt was mirrored in his eyes.... +"Margaret ... Margaret," he had said ... and I, all unyielding, had +sought the solace of his arms....</p> + +<p>Some time later he placed a chair for me and forced me gently down ... +still quivering under the shock of revelation—revelation, not of what I +had done, but of what I <i>felt</i>! The spurious sentiment which had held me +to the past of things shook me with its last convulsive<a name="page_318" id="page_318"></a> gasps.... +Seated in front of me, his hands clasping mine, he read the confusion in +my mind: confusion which speech alone could dissipate....</p> + +<p>"I want you to know what is in my mind and heart.... Doubt, a great +question over-shadows all else. I ask myself, can a woman love more than +once? Is there a love for youth, a love for maturity?... You see, I am +not sure that I really love you. I am haunted with the fear that my +loneliness, my wounded pride, my unsatisfied life have caused me to seek +consolation. And I have come to you for that consolation because I +respect and admire you. Propinquity has proved that we are companionable +and that we have much in common. But love demands something more than +companionship, respect and admiration. <i>You</i> would demand something +more.... Whether I am prepared to give you that which you demand is the +question. As I feel now, I could not give you all the marriage relation +implies. Do you understand my scruples? I have the feeling that to go +from one man's arms to another's is nothing short of indecency. Perhaps +time will alter the perspective. But I don't know, John, I don't know! +You<a name="page_319" id="page_319"></a> see I want to be honest with you. I want to promise nothing about +which I am not sure.... Then, there is your side of it. Can I give all a +man expects from the woman he makes his wife? What have I to give? The +bloom of my womanhood, the ardent passion of youth is forever gone. What +is left may not satisfy you.... It is right that you should go away at +once ... but I shall be lonely.... God and my heart alone know how +lonely I shall be...."</p> + +<p>"Margaret, I thank you for your frankness. It only adds to my love for +you. I appreciate and respect the feeling which bids you send me away at +this time. Only don't sacrifice yourself to a prudish modesty; don't +make a fetish of the past. Conserve your tender memories, if you will, +but strip them of overvaluation.... You ask what have you to give.... Do +you believe that because the bloom of your womanhood, your first passion +and its fruition have belonged to another, that there is nothing left to +give? Shall I be giving, does any man give, what he demands of a woman +as the prerogative of his sex? You see, little woman, we are the victims +of a false education. There is one standard for woman,<a name="page_320" id="page_320"></a> a different +standard for man. It is this faulty double standard which is responsible +for so many unhappy marriages. Some day this will all be changed. There +are signs even to-day of the awakening.... Rid your mind once and for +all of the spectre that the past will stand between us. Don't stultify +your womanhood with a sentimentalism which is the curse of your sex. +Life lies before you. The motherhood which your nature is crying out for +is your rightful heritage. Look ahead, dear. Be true to the best that is +in you ... and remember ... I am waiting...."</p> + +<p>I bade him good-bye—and had lingered. His strong hands clasped mine +once more and held me there.... Mutely we looked into each other's eyes +... and thus my husband found us.... Coming in unannounced—whether +intentionally was of small moment. We did not start; instead, I think he +held me closer and met the other's sneer with a clear gaze....</p> + +<p>"Drop my wife's hand! Drop it, I say!" Will raised his cane to strike. I +heard it snap and saw the bits in the other's hand. They clenched and +glared at each other....</p> + +<p>"It is not necessary to indulge in heroics,"<a name="page_321" id="page_321"></a> I interposed.... "Suppose +we talk it over—sensibly."</p> + +<p>As we seated ourselves in preparation for the "<i>pour-parler</i>" the ironic +humour of the situation came to my rescue. There was something absurdly +theatrical about Will's attitude: a stentorian breathing; his stride +across the room; a certain punctuated deliberation in the way he +relieved himself of hat and gloves. I had seen him do thus in "strong" +scenes on the stage, many and many's the time. I felt as if I were +waiting for a cue....</p> + +<p>"So!" Will began after placing his chair firmly centre.... "So this is +the way you abuse my confidence in you both!... My God, where is your +sense of honour? If I hadn't trusted you so implicitly it wouldn't be so +bad ... but to deliberately strike me from behind!" He rose, strode left +centre and back again. "And you—my wife! <i>My wife!</i> I would not have +believed it of you! I would never have believed it possible that my wife +could so deceive me.... I've been warned about this.... I've been warned +that such a thing as this might happen, but I refused to listen to +<a name="page_322" id="page_322"></a>gossip ... and nobody had the nerve to tell me the truth.... It's the +same old story ... a husband is always the last one to hear of his +wife's infidelity.... Margaret! <i>Margaret!!!</i>"</p> + +<p>He stopped and waved his hand tragically in the direction of the models +of Boy....</p> + +<p>"How could you.... How could you!... Here under the very eyes of our +little son! Have you no shame, have you no reverence for the memory of +that sainted child?... O, my God! Woman!..."</p> + +<p>The mention of the child electrified me ... his cheap grief was +revolting....</p> + +<p>"Stop that! Stop your acting! I'm sick, <i>sick</i>, <i>sick</i> unto death of the +theatre!... Haven't you one honest, sincere emotion in your nature? Play +the plain, rugged manly hero for once in your life, if act you must!... +You wouldn't believe it of your wife ... <i>your</i> wife.... Do you think +<i>your wife</i> is not made of flesh and blood and sensibilities like other +human beings? What right have you to expect <i>anything</i> from your wife? +How dare you conjure with my son's name?... you, fresh from the arms of +that—that creature!..."</p> + +<p>Will eyed me narrowly.</p> + +<p><a name="page_323" id="page_323"></a>"O ... so you've been listening to gossip, have you? You've been +discussing me between you, is that it? No doubt our friend, here, has +done his best to put you wise, eh? I've had enough of this...."</p> + +<p>"You shall stay and hear me out!... It may surprise you to know that our +friend, here, has not even intimated that he knew of your flagrant +liaison.... It may shock you to know that it was your wife, the +gutta-percha doll, who made the first declaration of tenderness, and I'm +glad, I'm glad that I had so much real passion left! I'm glad to realize +that after all I am a human being still, capable of feeling" ... (a +sudden weariness overcame me and left me limp and exhausted). "The +trouble is—you are so impregnated with the rottenness about you, that +you judge all by your own standard.... Let's have done with this!... Any +further discussion will be carried on in the privacy of our home.... I +am sorry ... sorry to have subjected you to this humiliating scene." My +last words were addressed to the man who, tall, gaunt and pale, looked +on—and waited. Through a blur of tears I held out my hand to him.... +"Good-bye," I said and left them together.</p> + +<p>It was dark when Will returned. I heard<a name="page_324" id="page_324"></a> him softly close the hall-door +after him. He came into the room where I was lying and sat down beside +me.</p> + +<p>"Girlie ... I have something to say to you...." His speech showed a +little thickness and I smelled the liquor on his breath. His tone was +kindly and I felt my rancour soften.</p> + +<p>"First, don't let us lose our heads again ... it doesn't help +matters.... Gailbraith and I have talked it over ... and the kindest +thing I can do is to give you a divorce.... That sounds cold-blooded, +doesn't it, between you and me?... but it's the only thing ... the only +right thing. Gailbraith says I'm not playing fair by you; that I am +ruining your life and cheating you out of happiness which I can't give +you myself ... and I guess he's right.... I guess Gailbraith's right.... +We've drifted pretty far apart—I realize that now ... but—I want you +to believe me when I say you are the only woman I have ever loved—or +ever will love. The rest are just—experiences; some of them fascinating +while they last, but none of them the real thing. No one will ever +replace you in my heart ... that's certain.... It's too bad—too damned +bad.... It's this hellish business! There<a name="page_325" id="page_325"></a> ought to be a law to prevent +actors from marrying.... Now for the business end of it: I know you +won't drag in any names as corespondents. We'll fix that up later. I'll +give you a lump sum, now—it can't be as large as I should like it to +be, for there isn't much left. When my season opens I'll make you a +weekly allowance until—until such a time as you are able to dispense +with it. I'll see my lawyer—to-morrow, and fix things up with him..... +Don't you think it might be well for you to go away for a few days to +avoid the newspaper blow-up?"</p> + +<p>I nodded. I could not speak....</p> + +<p>"There, old pard ... don't take it so hard.... I guess that's all for +the present. I'll be at the club any time you want me.... +Good—good-night, Girlie ... and God bless you...."</p> + +<p>In the days which followed I appeared to myself like a rudderless ship +in a choppy sea. I did not see John Gailbraith again. He sailed within a +few days after the scene in the studio. In a letter written from the +boat he told me he had not forced himself upon me, knowing my wishes and +respecting them. "Be true to yourself is all I ask," the letter ran, +"and know<a name="page_326" id="page_326"></a> that whatever you may decide as best for yourself that shall +I abide by."</p> + +<p>Following the serving of the papers on Will for absolute divorce, I left +town. Those wretched days were spent on railroad trains, fast trains, +flyers. I got off one only to board another. The sense of "going +somewhere" was in keeping with my mood. When I returned to New York, +worn and relaxed, I appreciated the quiet of what once had been home.... +Will had already installed himself at the club. The dismantling of the +apartment was a nerve-racking task. Memories, bitter, sweet, crowded on +each other's heels, "so fast they followed." Will had left a list of +books and trinkets which were to be packed and sent to storage in his +name. In an old trunk, buried beneath dust and grime in the bin, below +stairs, I found endless souvenirs of my married life. Photographs, +letters, my wedding flowers; press-notices, carefully preserved in a +large scrap-book; costumes I had made for Will in the early days of our +struggle; Boy's first shoe.... This inscription on the back of a large +photograph Will had given to me on the day of our betrothal: "To Girlie +<a name="page_327" id="page_327"></a>from her Boy—until death do us part and even in eternity." ... +Letters, breathing hope and fears and always—love.... Damp with tears, +I gathered the symbols of the wreck and plied a match. I watched them as +they burned ... and crumbled to ashes ... ashes....</p> + +<p class="ast">* * * * * * *</p> + +<p>I sat in the rear of the dim theatre where I had slipped unnoticed, +after the lights were lowered. I had come to see him as a kind of +leave-taking. To-morrow, the open sea ... a new world.... His voice +thrilled me as before: I smiled at familiar little tricks and +mannerisms.... His features had coarsened somewhat; his figure taken on +flesh, but it was the same Will ... the same handsome lover of my youth. +The scene faded from my view.... I lived again in the past; all rancour +dead, a great tenderness and regret—regret that it should be so. +Silently I stole away, while the lights were low. "God bless you, dear," +I whispered in my heart, "God bless and keep you, dear."</p> + +<p class="c">THE END</p> + +<p class="c">Transcriber's note:<br /> +Beside a few typographical errors, the following changes have been made:<br /> +How long with=>How long will<br /> +woman as my right=>woman at my right +</p> + +<hr class="full" /> + +<p><a name="page_328" id="page_328"></a></p> + +<p><i>AFTER THE HONEYMOON—WHAT?</i></p> + +<p><i>Read the Surprising New Novel</i>,</p> + +<p>"<i>The Indiscretion of Lady Usher</i>"</p> + +<p><i>and learn what happens to one woman</i>.</p> + +<p>———</p> + +<p><i>12 mo. Cloth binding. For sale by all booksellers or sent, carriage +paid, for $1.35, by the Publishers</i></p> + +<p><i>The Macaulay Company</i></p> + +<p><i>15 West 38th Street</i> <i>New York</i></p> + +<p>———</p> + +<p>This story is a Sequel to "The Diary of My Honeymoon," one of the most +readable books we have ever published. 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