“You mean those political things of fat capitalists and paper-capped labouring men?” asked Ben Stark.
“Certainly not,” said Terry. “You’re horribly behind the times. That sort of thing isn’t done. If she goes in for political cartoons at all she will draw pictures of downtrodden millionaires defending themselves from Bolsheviki, rampant on a field of red, or of a mob of infuriated factory owners throwing stones at the home of a labour leader—she may draw a series of pictures showing in great detail how a motion picture actress makes up to conceal the wart on her nose before facing the camera.”
“It isn’t at all settled yet,” said Ruth. “I may not be able to get a—a job.” She hated the word, but pronounced it in a perfect fury of democratic renunciation.
“I don’t think there’ll be any trouble,” said Terry. “There’s always a demand for that sort of thing.”
Altogether, however, the announcement produced surprisingly little comment from Gloria and her friends. They seemed to take it as a matter of course, like Gloria’s going into motion pictures. She had been, despite her fears, rather successful, and had been offered a new contract, which, however, she was unwilling to sign until she knew more about the production of Terry’s comedy. If Terry’s play really got a New York production, Gloria would be only too glad to desert the camera.
The revelation of Ruth’s duplicity to Professor Pendragon was threatened in a most unexpected manner, Sunday morning. First Dorothy called for her at the house, and this time, manifested more curiosity about her surroundings than she had done previously, because this time her mind was not on the more important matter of frocks.
“Who do you live with here?” she asked Ruth, as she waited for her to put on her hat and coat.
Ruth hesitated; she hated deception of any kind, or making mysteries. After all it was very silly of Gloria. If one must leave ex-husbands scattered around the world, one should contemplate the possibility of running across them now and then with equanimity. And then the stupid idea of concealing their relationship. It was all most annoying.
“With a woman who was a friend of my father,” she answered at last, but Dorothy was not to be put off so easily.
“I mean what’s her name?” she asked with frank curiosity.