“Oh, she’s a little tike of an actress that took my place in the ‘Friend in Need’ company a long while ago. And she’s come on here to be my understudy. Eldon hates her because she makes love to him all the time.”
Bret’s gaze pierced her eyes, trying to find a lie behind their defense. “And you dare to tell me that you and Eldon were joking?”
“Of course we were, honey. If I’d been in love with him I wouldn’t choose the theater to display it in, with a packed house watching, would I? If we’d been carried away with our own emotion we’d have played the scene badly.
“Another thing happened. Batterson noticed that something was wrong with our work, and he stood in the wings close to me and began to whip us up. He was snarling at us: ‘Get to work, you two. Put some ginger in it.’ And he swore at us. That made us work harder.”
Bret was dumfounded. “You mean to tell me that you played a love-scene better because the stage-manager was swearing at you?”
Sheila frowned at his ignorance. “Of course, you dear old stupid. Acting is like horse-racing. Sometimes we need the spur and the whip; sometimes we need a kind word or a pat on the head. Acting is a business, honey. Can’t you understand? We played it well because it’s a business and we know our business. If you can’t understand the first thing about my profession I might as well give it up.”
“That’s one thing we agree on, thank God.”
“Oh, I’d be glad to quit any time. I’m worn out. I don’t like this play. It hasn’t a new idea in it. I’m tired of it already and I dread the thought of going on with it for a year—two years, maybe. I wish I could quit to-night.”
“You’re going to.”
She was startled by the quiet conviction of his tone. Again she sighed: “If I only could!”