“Will you please excuse me, but I have to go to New York. I’ll let you know later about acting.”
I sent the note to Mr. Davis by the little maid in the house, and he sent back a sheet with this laconic message upon it:
“Now or never—Give me till morning.”
Lil talked and talked and talked to me all night about it, and she seemed to think I was crazy not to grab this chance that had come to me, and she said any one of the other girls would have gone clean daft about it. She said I was a little fool, and never knew when opportunity came in my way. “Just look,” she said, “how you turned down that chance you had to be a show girl, and all of us other girls weren’t even asked, and I’ll bet our legs are as pretty as yours. It’s just because you’ve got a sort of—of—well, I heard a man call it ‘sex-appeal’ about you, but you’re foolish to throw away your good chances, and by and by they won’t come to you. You’ll be fat and ugly.”
I said:
“Oh, Lil, stop it. I guess I know my business better than you do.”
“Well, then, answer me this,” said Lil, sitting up in bed, “are you engaged to that fellow who sends you letters every day?”
I could not answer her.
“Well, what about Reggie Bertie?”
“For heaven’s sakes, go to sleep,” I entreated her, and with a grunt of disgust she at last turned over.