“I don’t believe that——”
“You should try. Singing won’t get you across. You’ve got to act, for one thing.”
He was relieved that she did not discuss the angel business, which is forgotten in so few stories of struggle and failure.
“I tell you, all that one has to do is to sing—when one sings as you do.”
“I have heard that many times,” she said bitterly, “from people not in the fight. They didn’t come to New York on their nerve—as I did. I made up my mind not to be afraid of wolves or bears or cars—to take what I could get, and wait until somebody beckoned me higher. Meanwhile Pastern’s and the Castle and here——”
“I wish I could do something for you.”
Her eyes gleamed at him.
“You need money?” he asked.
“I need money so terribly—that it’s almost a joke—but what do you want?”
Bellair rubbed his eyes, and smiled a little. “I don’t know what’s the matter with me, but I want to do something for you. At least, I did want just that.”