“Did you ever see such a boor!” was Helen’s contribution to the symposium.
“He’s old.” disclosed the observing Maud. “That’s a wig he had on. I’d swear to it. Poor Darcy!”
Dissolved in mirth, Darcy congratulated the amateur upon a highly distinguished performance.
“Did Gloria teach you to act like that?” she inquired.
“If Gloria would train me,” he returned, “I could do something. But she won’t waste time on an amateur. Do you know that she’s one of the very best coaches in the profession?”
“I know that she’s the most wonderful woman in the world. What she’s done for me—”
“It’s probably no more than she’s done for hundreds of other people,” said Remsen, and launched out into a panegyric of the actress which would have made a press agent feel like an amateur.
With more experience of men, Darcy would have known that this was the language of the highest type of admiration, but of nothing more. In her innocence she took it as a final confirmation of the scene she had witnessed in the studio.
“Gloria wants you to work, doesn’t she?” she asked shyly.
“Gloria’s such a tremendous worker, herself, that she thinks every one ought to be busy on some job all the time. Doesn’t she get after you? You look far too much of the lily-of-the-field type to meet her approval.”