“Strictly pairs at Jack’s place, and the same pair lasts through the night,” he said. “Stick to the woman you’re with ’r take the elevator down—that’s the rule.”
“’F there’s too much booze flowing, that elevator-boy sure must be kept busy,” she retorted, with a laugh.
“Oh, we run it ourselves—we’re accommodating,” he said, with a grin.
After they were seated at a table in The Golden Mill and had finished half of their highballs, she said: “Joe, I’m going to talk serious to you. I was just in a silly mood when I said last time I’d think about living with you. It wouldn’t work out—it never does unless two people really love each other. ’F I ever fall hard in love with you, Joe, I’ll do it in a minute. I’m not afraid, but I don’t love you now. Besides, it’s not just a question of some man, with me. I’ve made up my mind to try and be an artist or an actress—don’t laugh now—and I wonder whether you could help me any.”
He listened to her with chagrin and amusement—going after her was like wading for eels, and she certainly had this “higher aspiration” bug with a vengeance. These girls now, they were amenable enough when their only desires were a good time, fine clothes, and a man who wouldn’t give them the shivers, but the moment they started to get this “self-expression,” I-want-to-be-different craze, boy, what a tough proposition they became. Still, even that could be turned to your advantage if you “yessed” it along and insinuated that you alone could cause it to succeed. In addition, in spite of his cynical feelings, he could not quite down his respect for her determination to struggle out of her present life. She was no ordinary girl, that was certain, and in a way she was a marvel, in view of the family that she came from and the half-dirty, low-down flat in which she’d been raised. She probably had no acting ability—they hardly ever did—but you could never be sure about her; she was little Miss Surprise herself. Well, if he could only land her first, he’d be willing to help her along—why not?
He looked at her eager face, that was not quite pretty but boldly attractive and well-spaced, and the almost full drop of her bosom rising and falling more quickly as she talked, and the restrained sturdiness of her lips. Beyond a doubt, he’d give his right hand to have her, and yet he couldn’t absolutely tell himself why.
“Well, well, Blanchie’s gone and got stage-struck,” he answered, lightly. “You know I’ll do anything for you, you know that, but I don’t want to see you wasting your time. This acting game’s a long, hard proposition—some get in overnight but they’re damn few in number. I know girls who’ve been in it for years, and all they’ve got is a diamond ring in pawn and a favorite chair at the booking agencies. A girl’s got to have more than ambition to make any one notice her on Broadway, nowadays. How d’you know you’re fit to be an actorine?”
“I don’t, but I want a try-out just the same,” she replied. “How’ll I ever know what I’m cut out for unless I go to it and see what I can do? ’F I turn out to be a frost as ’n actress, I’ll take up drawing ’r something else. There must be something I can do as good as other people, besides working like a nigger every day.”
“Sure there must,” he said, soothingly. “I’m with you all the time—I like to see a girl who can think of something else besides putting on the glad rags and lifting the glasses. You’ve got the stuff in you, and it’s never had a chance to come out, and I’m the one man you know who can help you in the acting line, don’t forget that. I’ll get you a try-out for some play—just a little part, y’know, where you walk across the stage ’n’ say ‘Madame, will you have the tea served now, or next Monday?’ I’ll make them take you, too.”
“Will you?” she asked, eagerly. “Say, you’re a brick, Joe!”