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Twenty-Thousand Dollar Legs
211
Marbe, pride beaming in her lovely lineaments. “I’ll be twenty-one next February; I’m just twenty-and-ahalf now ; and I’ve worked continually. Did you know that I got twelve hundred and fifty for a week in New York at Marcus Loewe’s State Theater?”
“I must have missed that in my careless reading. What did you do for twelve hundred and fifty?”
“My vaudeville act, fourteen minutes, with my pianist. And then I stood out on the canopy — it was really a dangerous place — and released toy balloons.” “All for twelve hundred and fifty?”
“Well, I suppose I should have got extra for that — but then, you see, the publicity, not to mention the distinction! I was the only star who ever stayed a whole week at the State. And that week we took in twenty-five hundred more than ever before or ever after in the history of the house — Mr. Loewe has so stated. — Did you see Griffith’s ‘Orphans of the Storm’?”
“Yes.”
“Then don’t you remember” — she removed her saffron sport hat and shook out her recently bobbed hair to the best of its length — “The Dancer?”
And you may be assured that I did not say, “WTiich dancer?” No, indeed, I said, “Oh, yes, The Dancer!” And I said it with a couple of capitals.
“I thought you’d remember, a man with your eye for — and even if you hadn’t, there’s a big painted poster now in front of the Roosevelt which says, ‘Fay Marbe in Her Intoxicating Dance of the Carmagnole.’ I may be induced to make a personal appearance there ; I don’t know. — Oh, tell me, what kind of a club is the Union League?”
“It’s inclined to be Republican in its politics,” I said, “but socially it’s beyond reproach. Why?”