Rand passed the polished nails along the soft moustache. The sun of the door sent true gold into his hair. He murmured, “Shocking bad, eh? We play Baltimore, next week, don’t we?”
“No,” said Mark, easily, “It’s too thin. I’ll close it tonight.—Now, I’m putting on a piece called the ‘Last Warrior.’ English. Start rehearsals after Christmas. Good part for you in that. Marion Hart’s the lead. Know her? Nice to play with and a damned good play.”
“Oh—thanks awfully.—Yes, I know Miss Hart.—Thanks very much, sir.... You shan’t risk bringing ‘Todgers’ to New York?”
“No. I’m sorry. You’ve worked mighty hard and I like your work. You’ll be a lot better off in this other play.... ‘Todgers’ is too thin, Rand. Might have done five or six years back.”
The actor nodded. “Dare say you’re right, sir. Bit of a bubble, really. And awfully good of you to want me for this other thing. Be delighted to try.... Yes, this was rather bubblish:—Anyhow, this lets me out of Baltimore. I do hate that town. Well, thanks ever so. Better luck next time, let’s hope.”
He walked off, grey into the duller grey of the columned lounge. Mark nodded after him. “Took it damned well, Gurdy. He’ll be all right in this other show and Cora can’t say I haven’t been decent to him. Well, hustle along. Got that whiskey for your dad? Give ’em my love.—Look at that pink car, for lordsake! Vulgarity on four wheels, huh?—So long, sonny.”
Gurdy was glad that Rand hadn’t whined. This was a feeble, tame fellow without much attraction beyond his handsome face. Perhaps it was for this mannerly tameness that Margot liked him. Perhaps that fable of women liking the masterly male was faulty. Margot liked to domineer. She had bullied Rand a trifle at the rehearsal in London. Perhaps Cora Boyle liked the tame little creature for some such reason. Gurdy dismissed him and the theatre. There was vexing sadness in the collapse of even so poor a play. Russell and the actors had worked. It came to nothing. Bubble! Expensive, futile, unheroic evanescence. Margot’s fault. He mustn’t let Mark do such a thing again. The girl must confine her restless self to dances and clothes. She had looked very well at the Jannan party. She had smartness, instant magnetism. She was still asleep and would dine with her acquaintance, Mrs. Calder, tonight. Gurdy yawned as Trenton foully spouted its industry toward the sky. Bernamer was waiting with the car at the station, gave him a crushing hug and told him that he looked like hell.
“Danced all night.”
“I see you did in the Ledger. Among those present at the Apsley Jannan’s party. Your mamma’s all upset about it. Saw a movie of a millionaire party with naked hussies ridin’ ostriches in the conserv’tory. She thinks Margot’s led you astray. How’s this ‘Tod’ play done?”
“It’s all done, dad. Closes tonight.”