Lil’s letter had started my thoughts on an old trail. The desire to act
came creeping back on me. It was like an old thirst that suddenly awoke
and tugged at one’s consciousness to be satisfied. In Boston I had not
thought to see theatrical managers. Reggie had long ago successfully
squelched my ambitions in that line. Now Lil’s letter and her reference
to Mr. Davis quickened a new hope within me.
Perhaps, as Lil wrote, conditions were better in New York. Certainly
there should be more work for a model, and perhaps I might in time
really get on the stage. I had enough money for my fare and a little
over, and New York appealed to me. Still, I had not definitely decided
to go until after I had read the letter that came from Reggie:
“DEAREST OLD GIRL:” (he wrote.)
“I am so glad you are keeping well, and have quite recovered from
your recent indisposition. I have been up to my eyes and ears in
important work. I’m going to run for the next elections for the
ninth ward. What do you think of that for a young and rising
Barrister? I’ll bet you are proud of your Reggie, now aren’t you,
darling? As for me, now that the rush has let up a bit, I am simply
famishing for the sight of my little Marion. And _now_ for the
_best_ news of all. I’m leaving for Boston to-morrow evening, and
I’ll be with you within a day! There won’t be any more cross, stiff
little letters coming to me from Boston, from a strange Marion
that’s not a bit like the loving little girl I know. The States is
no place for a girl like you, darling, and I’m going there to fetch
you home. Be at North station at 8.15.