The self-enchanted : Mae Murray : image of an era (1959)

"Indeed, I thought perhaps you'd gone last night." "I'm sorry about last night, Jay. Believe me, it's going to be better for both of us when I'm gone. We're very bad friends, you and I." "Isn't that because your prim, weird middle-class morality insists on friendship? I've never wanted to be your friend!" "Jay, be happy with me. It's a wonderful opportunity. In New York I've been just a potential." "I wish you all the best," he said coldly. "I trust you will marry some stout producer and bear him a number of sons who'll grow up to be Keystone cops." "Jay, you don't understand. I've signed a contract, I'm going to make pictures. I'm going to work." He sighed deeply; for a moment she was very proud of him, he was suffering so nobly. He hailed a taxi and handed her in. "Drive up Hudson Parkway," he told the driver. "What drives me mad is your cool lack of involvement, Mae. I wouldn't even mind if you hated me. But you've never felt a thoroughgoing emotion in your life." He became suddenly violent. "Hate me or love me, but for God's sake, with passion." His voice broke. He began to sob fiercely. Shocked, she could only hold onto him. She'd never seen a man cry before. Her face was wet with his tears. "Don't, Jay. Don't. I'll marry you. Just let me go to Hollywood and fulfill my contract." She didn't recognize the voice, saying what she'd never intended to say. He was himself at once. "You come back or I'll come and get you," he said. She never did understand why she'd promised. She pondered it as the train raced through Ohio, picking up speed. Jay had taken her to the train, he had stayed until the last, until they'd started moving, he'd left a note crushed in her pocket, his eyes hard as Svengali's. But he was gone, vanished, swept away and she was free again. The wheels beat a resonant tattoo. Dark gathered, stained the outside world, and the train sped on, luminous. She could see its 51