“It seems she’s some one I used to know,” he explained to his wife. She
raised her eyebrows and smiled politely, but he knew she wasn’t
satisfied. “I suppose I’ll have to go,” he said.
“Oh, by all means!” replied his wife. “Alice and I won’t wait.”
He was uneasy and annoyed. That was just like Esther--no consideration!
He found her in her dressing room, with a crowd of people, but she sent
them all away.
“He’s an awfully old friend,” she explained, “and very shy. I’ll never
be able to catch him again.”
The little country girl had certainly become a handsome woman, he
reflected, and she had lost none of her impudent charm, her mocking
tranquillity.
“Well, Tommy!” she said.
“Well!” he answered, and he had exactly his old air of a boy acting the
man of the world.
“My, you’ve got on!” she said admiringly. “You’re really splendid,
Tommy! Are you a millionaire?”
“No,” he answered, flushing, well aware that she was laughing at him.
“I’m in business.”
“How did you do that?”
Naturally he didn’t care to talk about his heroic effort to rehabilitate
himself--how he had actually found himself a job, and won his alarming
uncle’s forgiveness for his one wickedness by patient industry and some
years of complete self-effacement.
“And you’re married, if my eyes do not betray me.”
“Yes, I’m married,” he answered stiffly.
He wasn’t going to permit any Esther on earth to make light of that
respectable and very happy union.
“Oh, Tommy!” she sighed. “I’m glad! I’m glad it’s all turned out so well
for you--and for me, too. I don’t believe I would ever have become the
actress I am if it hadn’t been for all I suffered through your
desertion.”
“What?” he cried, astounded. “_My_ desertion?”
And there were actually tears in her eyes.
“Yes,” she said. “You nearly broke my heart, but it made me.”
He could scarcely believe his ears.
“But--but--” he stammered, with a feeble effort to remind her of her own
treachery.
“I only wanted to see you and tell you that I forgave you long ago,
Tommy--forgave you frankly and freely. I owe my success to that
suffering.”
She held out her hand. He grasped it, and hurriedly took his leave. She
forgave him! She forgave him his desertion, which had nearly broken her
heart!
He stopped in the street outside the theater, ready to denounce her to
the silent sky; but in spite of himself began to smile, with reluctance,
with an immense and grudging admiration.
“Upon my word!” he said aloud. “What a woman!”
MUNSEY’S
MAGAZINE
NOVEMBER. 1922
Vol. LXXVII NUMBER 2