“I had good reasons,” she replied, looking him defiantly in the face, “a woman’s reasons. He hadn’t played fair with me!”
“That is, hadn’t married you as you hoped he would?” Brainard suggested.
“I didn’t say that!” she flashed quickly, realizing that she was in danger of committing herself.
“Well, I hope the railroad people paid you well for your services.”
“They quit paying me, naturally, after you got over to Europe with the stuff they wanted and sold it to the Germans.”
“They dealt with the Germans instead,” Brainard laughed. “It might have paid better to stick by the old man to the end? . . . So, after we parted at Vera Cruz, you went back to the stage—into the legitimate?”
“Mr. Hollinger suggested it when I met him at Jalapa. He got me a place in one of the San Francisco theaters a friend of his was running, and then later on when he went into the show business himself, he took me for one of his companies.”
“Do you like the work?”
“It’s as good as anything else,” the leading lady replied, “so long as you’ve got to work for your living.”
“Most of us have to do that.”