And as if to assure her, his devotion duplicated that of their honeymoon. Her happiness seemed the thought paramount, her peace of mind his topmost concern. It continued so until business called him West, the tangle that for some time had been knotting his California interests. The letters he sent, when they were not of her and the children, spoke of his boredom after affairs of the day were done with, of the humidity and discomfort of the rainy season and emphasized his eagerness to return. They came from various coast cities—San Francisco, Sacramento, Santa Barbara, Los Angeles.
“It’s possible you may not hear from me the next few weeks,” a final communication told her. “I find it necessary to go to New Mexico to look into a railroad proposition. For a time I may be located miles from any post office. But know that I’m safe and thinking of you, my dearest, and expect me back sometime in September.”
Nancy packed when it arrived and left to visit the Bishops at Newport. Stopping overnight in town, she ran into Coghlan on his way to the Knickerbocker Grill, daily trysting place of managers.
“Say, what d’you think of Lilla?” He chortled in the midst of pouring out plans for the coming season. “Gone to Hawaii to get atmosphere before she signs up for that lead. Atmosphere! Can you beat it? Paying her own expenses, too. Told her she was crazy, but [328] ]nothing to it—had to go. Developing too much temperament for her own good, that kid!”
Nancy had not yet brought herself to the point of hearing Lilla’s name without wincing. But she managed a smile and asked: “When does she return?”
“Next month sometime. Told her rehearsals begin the fifteenth whether she’s on the job or not. So you can bank on it, she’ll be here.” His appraising yet impersonal glance ran the length of Nancy’s graceful figure, from the wide hat shading her eyes to the narrow brown pumps and slim ankles. “All to the good, Nancy,” he sighed regretfully, “all to the good! Just home and mother stuff too! And, by golly, five years ago I guyed myself into thinking I’d turn you out the greatest actress in America!”
She wondered vaguely as she sped toward the worldly paradise whose gates had swung wide to her whether old Jerry was right. Would she have become a great actress or just the darling of a few fickle years? That girl with her wild dark eyes and swirl of golden hair, would the public she had loved have wept and laughed with her to-day? She wondered and smiled reminiscently, a smile with a tear, like some bittersweet memory of the dead.
At the station she was met by her host, otherwise known as Mary Bishop’s husband, and in a supremely groomed car was driven through supremely groomed streets, ultra as the leaders who dwelt there. Courty Bishop sat back beside her, caressed his waxed mustache and regaled her with choice bits of news, just as Coghlan had regaled her the day before. After all, she [329] ]told herself, there wasn’t much difference in the two worlds. Appraisingly, but with a look not quite so impersonal as that of her former manager, the sophisticated eyes turned to scan her beauty while his facile tongue rambled on.
“I say—you top ’em all, Nancy! What a risk that boy, Dick, takes—leaving you alone so long!”
“Not so much of a risk,” she laughed, mentally placing her husband next to the little man.