Julie nodded. "The only reason I was any good, though, was just because I was so mad I didn't know what I was doing. I haven't an ounce of talent, really. I couldn't possibly give another performance like that, even if I had to."
"Oh," Marc murmured unhappily. "Then we're washed up after all."
"Oh, no!" Julie cried. "Linda Godfrey came backstage after the show and I talked her into taking over. She knows the songs already and she's stepping into my place tonight. The show will run forever with her in it."
Wonderful relief surged through Marc. "Then why all the weeping?"
The tears welled in Julie's eyes again. "I nearly ruined you. I badgered you into it, and you let me do it, you dope. I feel awful. I feel like a fraud, too. I'm not a star. I'm just an ex-chorus girl with delusions of grandeur."
"Nonsense," Marc said. "You are a star. The paper says so. It's nothing to cry over, darling. Retiring like this, after a one night triumph, you'll be a Broadway legend. And on top of all that, you've steered me into one of the best investments I've ever made."
Julie blinked. Apparently she hadn't thought of it quite that way. A thoughtful smile played over her lips. "It does kind of add up that way, doesn't it?" she murmured. "Everything did turn out pretty well, didn't it?"
"Sure it did. So let's have no more of this crying. Why don't you put on your best clothes and go out and bask in your own glory, just for the thrill?"
Julie gazed up at him, and there were stars in her eyes. "You're so wonderful," she sighed. "You make everything seem so right. I wish I'd wakened you when I came in last night so we could have talked it over then. It would have saved me so much misery. But it was so late, and I felt so awful, I just didn't have the courage."