"Also, you simply have to have occupation."
She nodded. "I wasn't brought up to fit me for an idler. When I was a child I was taught to keep busy—not at nothing, but at something. Freddie's a lot better at it than I."
"Naturally," said Brent. "You had a home, with order and a system—an old-fashioned American home. He—well, he hadn't."
"Clélie and I go at our make-believe acting quite seriously.
We have to—if we're to fool ourselves that it's an occupation."
"Why this anxiety to prove to me that you're not really serious?"
Susan laughed mockingly for answer, and went on:
"You should see us do the two wives in 'L'Enigme'—or mother and daughter in that diary scene in 'L'Autre Danger'!"
"I must. . . . When are you going to resume your career?"
She rose, strolled toward an open door at one end of the salon, closed it—strolled toward the door into the hall, glanced out, returned without having closed it. She then said:
"Could I study here in Paris?"