Later, when they had reached the stage door and were climbing into several automobiles standing at the curb, Miss Reed leaned close to Klein and whispered:
“I’m just dying to be an actress. Don’t you think you could help me to get on the stage?”
“I’m afraid any assistance I might offer would be of small benefit,” Klein answered. “Getting a start upon the stage depends on the individual.”
In the automobile Klein was separated from Miss Reed—a condition of affairs that brought no regret—and found Helen Lydecker a delightful substitute.
From her he learned that these Saturday-night dances at her home were regular throughout the season, and that the members of the Hudson Stock Company were always honored guests.
“You see,” she hastened to explain, “I discovered there were no rehearsals on Sunday mornings, so that made it possible for you of the company to remain up a little later on Saturday nights. Oh, I have taken a great interest in theatricals. Father, you know, owns the house in which the company is playing.”
“Your friend, Miss Reed, is also interested in the profession, isn’t she?” Klein returned. They both laughed.
“Miss Reed imagines she has had a great sorrow in her life,” Miss Lydecker said. “It was a love affair, of course.”
“And so she turns to the stage for solace, I suppose.”
“That must be it.”