Part 11 (2/2)
”I have no right to accept anything from you.”
”Then take the money for some one else. There must be some pet charity, some deserving chorus girl who has a sick mother, some fresh-air fund you want to contribute to. Please don't ask me to take back things so freely given.”
”No, I cannot take it,” replied Martha, firmly.
Gordon twirled his moustache nervously and peered curiously at her. Here was a case, indeed, one which the fastidious Sanford had never previously encountered. A chorus girl to refuse money and presents?
Unprecedented! How the chaps at the club would chaff him if he ever told the story. He--the best-known boulevardier of Broadway, a welcome guest at every Bohemian gathering, who called actors and managers by their first names and was the most flattered and most sought after member of that queer white-light society of night revellers which regarded the setting of the sun as the dawning of a new day--he, Sanford Gordon, virtually flouted by an obscure chorus girl whom he had deigned to honor with his attentions? Why, the thing was unbelievable.
”Are you in earnest?” he demanded.
”Certainly,” replied Martha, rising. ”I cannot be under obligations to you or any one else, especially in money matters.”
”Listen, Miss Farnum,” cried Gordon, coming to her. ”My conduct may seem strange to you. Call it a whim, if you like. But since I saw you that first night at the Casino, I have wanted to be friends with you. Can't we be friends?”
”Friends? Why, of course,” replied Martha, sincerely.
”You want to succeed in your profession. Let me help you.”
”What could you do?”
”I know the manager pretty well, for one thing. Victor Weldon is going to make a few new productions this season, and if I asked him to give you a part, he would probably do it.”
”But I want to succeed on my merits,” insisted Martha. ”If I am to win success, I must deserve it. I should be ashamed and humiliated if I secured an engagement through influence, and then failed.”
”But why refuse influence?” protested Gordon. ”It gives you the opportunity, and that is something every one must have. Many a clever actor and actress is walking Broadway to-day without an engagement, simply because of lack of opportunity. Now, if Weldon offers you a part in his new production at the Globe Theater, you won't refuse it, will you?”
”No, I wouldn't do that,” pondered Martha. ”But do you think I could play a small part?”
”Of course you can, and anyhow, never give up without a trial. Weldon might even offer you the leading role if the part suited you.”
”The leading role?” gasped Martha. ”Impossible!”
”Not at all,” continued Gordon. ”I happen to know that in his new production the leading role is that of a simple little country girl--just the sort of ingenue you were when I first met you at French Lick. The songs are simple. In fact, it's a little play with songs--not a big musical production. Your very simplicity and naturalness would make you splendidly suited to the role.”
”It sounds like a dream,” cried Martha, wonderingly. ”Are you sure Mr.
Weldon would ever give me a trial in the part?”
Gordon came close to her. ”If I ask it,” he said impressively and with a queer inflection of his voice which Martha did not understand. ”If I ask it, the thing is done. Come out to dinner with me and we'll talk it over.”
Martha's heart sank. ”I'd like to, really,” she said wearily, ”but I've never been out to dinner before, and Aunt Jane would be furious if I went.”
”You are not responsible to--your Aunt Jane, as you call her--are you?”
”No, but--”
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