"But--without you--why, I don't know what they were thinking of, to let
you go!"
"I just couldn't get along with the star, and that's all there was to
it," Joan declared. "He was a boozer and--well, I had to quit."
"And the sketch--"
"Oh, it went on, all right, I guess."
"Without you! Well, that's hard to credit. However...." Marbridge leaned
back and for a moment stared thoughtfully out of the window. "I really
can't think of anything we've got open just now that's good enough to
offer you."
"Please don't think of me that way, Mr. Marbridge," Joan pleaded
earnestly, more than half deceived. "I'm ready for anything, to get a
chance to show these people what I can do. Anything--however small--just
so it gives me a show--I don't care what!"
Marbridge preserved admirably his look of intent gravity. "Let me think
a moment," he requested, pursing his full lips.
Joan watched him closely through that brief silence, her mood one of
curious texture, compounded in almost equal parts of hope and doubt, of
wonder and misgivings, of appreciation of her own courage and
shrewdness, and of admiration for Marbridge.
He was by no means what she would have termed handsome, but he was
uncommonly individual, a personality that left an ineffaceable
impression of strength and masculinity; and with this he had an air of
being finished and complete, as though he not only knew better than most
how to take care of himself in all ways, but slighted himself in none.
She thought his mode of dress striking, combining distinction and taste
to an extraordinary degree.... And when in his abstraction he pinched
his chin gently between thumb and forefinger, she was impressed with the
discovery that a man's hand could be at once well-manicured and
muscular....
He turned back abruptly with a sparkle of enthusiasm in his bold and
prominent eyes.
"By George, I think I have it!..."
"Yes--?" she breathed excitedly.
He considered an instant longer, shook his head, and jumped up. "I must
consult Arlington first," he declared. "I wouldn't care to commit him
without his consent. No--don't get up. Just excuse me one minute. I'll
be right back."
And before she could protest--had she entertained the faintest idea of
doing anything of the sort--he left the room by the same door which had
admitted him.
Immediately she was again aware of a rumble of voices in the next
office, but now it was even more indefinite.
And again she waited a full five minutes alone....
When Marbridge rejoined her, it was with an air apologetic and
disappointed.
"It's too bad," he announced, aggrieved, "but it seems Arlington has
really gone for the day. I shan't see him before evening, likely,
possibly not until tomorrow. So I must ask you to trouble yourself to
come back, if you don't mind."
"Mind!" Joan laughed, rising. "Oh, I guess not."
"Well," Marbridge assured her, "I don't think you'll have any wasted
time to regret. But I can't promise anything until I'm sure Arlington
hasn't made other arrangements, or until I've managed to put a crimp
into 'em if he has."
"But you mustn't do that--"
"Hush!" Marbridge paused to chuckle infectuously. "There's one trouble,"
he amended, more gravely, "and that is, I haven't got any too much time.
I'm booked to sail for Europe Saturday, and have got so many little
things to attend to, I'm running round in circles. But don't you fret:
I've got this matter right next to my heart, Miss Thursday, and I'm
going to put it through if it humanly can be done. Now let me think when
I can ask you to call again."
"Any time that suits your convenience, Mr. Marbridge."
"Well, it's a question. I'd like mighty well to have you lunch with me
before I go, but.... The truth is, I haven't got hardly a minute
unengaged. You just happened to catch me right, today.... I wonder if
you could call in Friday, say, about half-past three?"
"Of course I can, but I don't want you to--"
"Didn't I tell you, _hush_!" Marbridge interrupted, mock-impatient. "Not
another word. Remember what I told you about how I felt that day I saw
you act, out in Chicago. The time's coming when I'm going to be
powerful' glad you gave me this chance to give you a lift, Miss
Thursday. And then"--he paused in the act of opening the door, and took
Joan's hand, subjecting it to a firm, friendly pressure before
continuing--"and then, perhaps, I'll be coming round and begging favours
of you."
For an instant Joan's eyes endured, without a tremor, the quick
searching probe of the man's.
She nodded quietly, saying in a grave voice: "I guess you won't have to
beg very hard--not for anything I could ever do for you, Mr. Marbridge."
His smile was as spontaneous and bright as a child's. "It's a bargain!"
he declared spiritedly. "And you can bet your life I won't forget my end
of it!... Good afternoon, Miss Thursday. Remember--Friday at
three-thirty...."