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First, tearfully, when your pal insists that you seize your big chance; then, when love makes your big chance seem small
By
HAGAR WILDE
boards in split weeks an' fivea-days too long. Be glad your luck's with you an' forget about me, lady."
"Sure," Ellin choked, snapping her fingers, "like that."
"Aw, I didn't mean forget me. I meant stop worryin' about me an' the act. I been thinkin' of a single a long time anyhow."
"Now you are lying."
"Listen, your train leaves in eight minutes. Can't you say anything but that I'm a liar?"
"I could if you'd stop lying," Ellin said. "You've been thinking of a single. Hah!"
"You don't think I'm good enough for a single? You thjnk I'll flop? Well, you wait. Inside a year I'm goin'
to be booked in a musical with my name plastered around Broadway like Squibb's toothpaste." "I wish," Ellin said tensely, "if you can't manage to say something sweet, that you'd shut up. Honest, you make me sore."
"What in the devil do you want me to say? I'm sorry to see you go. I'll sort of miss you. Can you think of anything else I could say that wouldn't sound sappy?"
"I have to go," she said, in a strained little voice. "The gate's been open for five minutes." Hesitantly, she stood on her tiptoes and put her arm around his neck.
Almost awkwardly, he brushed her lips with his own. "I'll get a porter," he said. "I guess they won't let me get on the train with you."
The Red Cap gathered her bags under his arm and in his hands and started down the ramp. Gene patted Ellin's shoulder. "Be a good kid," he said. Ellin poised in the gateway a moment, waved and was gone.
Gene pulled his hat down over his eyes. He could scarcely believe that she was gone. "Gosh," he said, and shoved his hands in his pockets. "Gosh, I guess she wanted me to tell her I was in love with her an' couldn't stand to see her go." He walked rapidly toward the upper level dreading the prospect of his loneliness.
HREE months later, decked in taffeta and tulle, Ellin *ac JL on a talkie set. She was weary, and her nerves were frayed to the breaking point. She had been working all day with Gorman, the director, who was known to be a slave driver with a passion for retakes.
She could hear him arguing with Don Delton, her leading man, in a far corner. She wished Gorman would give the word and start the scene. She reached up to push back the heavy wave of hair that covered her forehead. The all-seeing Gorman snapped "Don't do that!" Her hand wavered and fell in her lap.
Why hadn't she heard from Gene? Six letters, addressed to his old hotel, had had no answer.
The lights on the set [Continued on page 80]
35
^ Gene, ihe boy.