answered, “I won’t be called at all, please!”
This privilege alone was like a title of gentility to a tired laundress. There would be no rehearsal2 on the morrow for her.
The other galley-slaves in the company must still bend to the oar4, but she had shore leave of mornings, and after Saturday she was free altogether.
Now that she had time to be tired, old aches and fatigues5 whose consideration had had to be postponed6 came thronging7 upon her, till she wondered how she had endured
Then she wondered nothing at all for a good many hours, until the old habit of being called awakened9 her. She glanced at her watch, saw that it was half past ten, and
Then she remembered her liberty, and stood feeling pleasantly foolish. The joy of toppling back to bed was more than payment for the fright she had suffered. It was
glorious to float like a basking11 swimmer on the surface of sleep, with little ripples12 of unconsciousness washing over her face and little sunbeams of dream between.
In the half-awake moods she reviewed her ambitions with an indolent contempt. That man Winfield’s words came back to her. After all, she had no home except her father
’s summer cottage. And she had been planning no home except possibly another such place whither she would retire in the late spring until the early fall, to rest from
last season’s hotels and recuperate13 for next season’s. Yes, that was just about the home life she had sketched14 out!
It occurred to her now that her plans had been unhuman and unwomanly. “A woman’s place is the home,” she said. It was not an original thought, but it came to her
with a sudden originality15 as sometimes lines she had heard or had spoken dozens of times abruptly17 became real.
She wanted a pretty little house where she could busy herself with pretty little tasks while her big, handsome husband was away earning a pretty little provender18 for
both of them. She would be a young mother-bird haunting the nest, leaving the male bird to forage19 and fight. That was the life desirable and appropriate. Women were
not made to work. An actress was an abnormal creature.
Sheila did not realize that the vast majority of home-keeping women must work quite as hard as the actress, with no vacations, little income, and less applause. The
picture of the husband returning laughing to his eager spouse20 was a decidedly idealized view of a condition more unfailing in literature than in life. Some of those
housewives who had grown tired of their lot, as she of hers, would have told her that most husbands return home weary and discontented, to listen with small interest
to their weary and discontented wives. And many husbands go out again soon after they have come home again.
Sheila was doing what the average person does in criticizing the stage life—magnifying its faults and contrasting it, not with the average home, but with an ideal
Sheila had known so little of the average family existence that she imagined it according to the romantic formula, “And so they were married and lived happily ever
afterward22.” She thought that that would be very nice. And she lolled at her ease, weltering in visions of cozy23 domesticity with peace and a hearth24 and a noble
American citizen and the right number of perfectly25 fascinating children painlessly borne and painlessly borne with.
Anything, anything would be better than this business of rehearsing and rehearsing and squabbling and squabbling, and then settling down into a dismal26 repetition of
the same old nonsense in the same old theater or in a succession of same old theaters.
How good it was, just not to have to learn a new play for next week! It was good that there was no opportunity to rehearse any further revisions even of poor Vickery’
s play. There was almost a consolation27 in the thought that it had not succeeded with Reben. Perhaps Reben would be a long while discovering a substitute. Sheila hoped
he would not find one till the new year. She almost hoped he would never find one.
She was awfully28 sorry for poor Vickery. He had suffered so cruelly, and she had suffered with him. Perhaps he would give up play-writing now and take up some less
inhuman29 trade. To think that she had once dallied30 with the thought of marrying him! To play plays was bad enough, but to be the wife of a playwright—no, thank you!
Better be the gambler’s wife of a less laborious31 gambler or the nurse to a moody32 lunatic under more restraint.
Worse yet, Sheila had narrowly escaped falling in love with an actor! They would have been Mr. and Mrs. Traveling Forever! Mr. and Mrs. Never Rest! To live in hotels
and railroad stations, sleeping-car berths33, and dressing-rooms of about the same size; to put on a lot of sticky stuff and go out and parrot a few lines, then to
retire and grease out the paint, and stroll to a supper-room, and so to bed. To make an ambition of that! No, thank you! Not on your jamais de la vie, never!
And thus having with a drowsy34 royalty35 effaced36 all her plans from her books, she burned her books. Desdemona’s occupation was gone. She might as well get up. She
bathed and dressed and breakfasted with splendid deliberation, and then, the day proving to be fine and sunny and cool when she raised her tardy37 curtains, she decided
to go forth38 for a walk, the dignified39 saunter of a lady, and not the mad rush of a belated actress. It wanted yet an hour before she must make up for the matinée.
She had not walked long when she heard her name called from a motor-car checked at the curb40. She turned to see Eugene Vickery waving his cap at her. Bret Winfield, at
the wheel, was bowing bareheaded. They invited her to go with them for a ride. It struck her as a providential provision of just what she would have wished for if she
had thought of it.
Vickery stepped down to open the door for her, and, helping41 her in, stepped in after her. Winfield reached back his hand to clasp hers, and Vickery said:
“Where did you get the machine?” said Sheila.
“It’s his—Bret’s—Mr. Winfield’s,” said Vickery. “He came down in it—to see that infernal play of mine. Do you know, I think I’ve discovered one thing that’s
the matter with it. In that scene in the first act, you know, where—”
He rambled44 on with intense enthusiasm, but Sheila was thinking of the man at the wheel. He was rich enough to own a car and clever enough to run it. As she watched he
Now and then Winfield threw a few words over his left shoulder. They had nothing to do with things theatrical—just commonplace high spirits on a fine day. Sheila did
like him ever so much.
By and by he drew up to the curb and got down, motioning to Vickery with the thumb of authority. “I’m tired of letting you monopolize46 Miss Kemble, ’Gene. I’m going
to ask her to sit up with me.”
“But I’m telling her about my play,” said Vickery. “Now, in the middle of the last act—”
“If you don’t mind,” said Sheila, “I should like to ride awhile with Mr. Winfield. The air’s better.”
Winfield opened the door for her, helped her down and in again, and resumed his place.
“See how much better the car runs!” he said.
And to Sheila it seemed that it did run better. Their chatter47 ran about as importantly as the engines, but it was cheerful and brisk.
Every man has his ailment48, at least one. The only flaw in Winfield’s powerful make-up was the astigmatism49 that compelled him to wear glasses. Sheila rather liked
them. They gave an intellectual touch to a face that had no other of the sort. Besides, actor-people usually prefer a touch of what they call “character” to what
they call “a straight.”
Winfield told Sheila that his glasses had kept him from playing football, but had not hampered50 his work in the ’varsity crew. He could see as far as the spinal51 column
of the oarsman in front of him, and that was all he was supposed to see once the race began.
He explained that his glasses had fallen from his eyes when he stepped on the stage at Leroy. That had been one reason why Eldon had got home on him so easily.
“I hate to owe a man a dollar or a kindness or a blow,” he said. “I’ve lost my chance to pay that man Eldon what was due, and I’ll never get another chance. Our
paths will never cross again, I’m afraid.”
“I hope not!” Sheila cried.
“Why?”
“Because you’re both such powerful men. He was a football-player, you know.”
“Oh, was he?”
“Oh yes. And he keeps himself in trim. Most actors do. They never know when they’ll have to appear bare-armed. And then they meet such awful people sometimes.”
“Oh, do they? And you think he would whip me, eh?”
“Oh no. I don’t think either of you could whip the other. But it would be terrible to have either of you hurt either of you.”
She laughed, “Thanks.”
Then both looked about guiltily to see if Vickery were listening. Nothing important had been said, but their hearts had been fencing, or at least feinting, at a sort
of flirtation54.
Vickery was gone.
“For Heaven’s sake!” said Sheila.
“I wonder why?” Sheila said, anxiously.
“Oh,” Winfield laughed, “?’Gene’s such an omni—om—he reads so much he’s probably read that two’s company and three’s a crowd.”
This was a trifle uncomfortable for Sheila, so she said, “What time is it, please?”
“Half past one, or worse,” said Winfield, pointing with his toe to the auto-clock. “That’s usually slow.”
“Good Lord! I ought to be in the shop this minute. Turn round and fly!”
They were far out in the country. Winfield looked regretfully at the vista56 ahead. Turning round in a narrow road was a slow and maddening process, and Sheila’s nerves
grated like the clutch. Once faced townward, they sped ferociously58. She doubted if she would ever arrive alive. There were swoops59 and skids60 and flights of chickens and
narrow escapes from the murder of dogs who charged ferociously and vanished in a diminuendo of yelps61.
There followed an exciting race with the voice of a motor-cycle coming up from the rear. Winfield laughed it to scorn until Sheila, glancing back, saw that it carried
a policeman.
“He’s waving to us. Stop!”
“If I do we’ll never make it. I’ll put you in the theater on time if I go to jail for life.”
“No, no; I won’t get you into trouble. Please stop. He looks like a nice policeman. I’ll tell him you’re a doctor and I’m a trained nurse.”
Winfield slowed down, and the policeman came up, sputtering62 like his own blunderbuss. Sheila tried to look like a trained nurse, but missed the costume and the make-
up. She began at once:
“Oh, please, Mr. Officer, it’s all my fault. You see, the doctor has a dying patient, and I—I—”
“Why, it’s Sheila Ke— Miss Kemble! Ain’t you playin’ this afternoon?”
“Oh yes, it’s me—and I ought to be, but I was detained, and that’s why—”
“Well, you better hurry up or you’ll keep folks waitin’. My wife’s there this afternoon. I seen you myself last night.”
“Did you? Oh, thank you so much! Good-by!”
As Winfield’s car slid forward they heard the policeman’s voice: “Better go kind o’ slow crossing Fifth Street. McGonigle is stricter ’n I am.”
Winfield was greatly impressed by the fame of his passenger. He carried Calphurnia; no harm could come to him. They crossed Fifth Street at such a pace that the car-
tracks sent Sheila aloft. As she came down she remembered Officer McGonigle. She saw that he or a vague film of him was saluting63 her with admiring awe64. The grinding
toil of the stock actress has its perquisites65, after all.
She made Winfield let her out at the alley3 and ran with all her might. Once more she was met at the stage door by the anxious Eldon. But now she resented his presence.
Pennock was in a furious mood and scolded Sheila roundly when she helped her into her costume at a speed a fireman would have envied. As she made up her face while
Pennock concocted68 her hair, Sheila was studying some new lines that Vickery had determined69 to try out that afternoon.
The performance went excellently well. Sheila was refreshed by her sleep and the forced ventilation her soul had had. She dined with Vickery and Winfield. Vickery was
aflame with new ideas that had come to him in Winfield’s car. He had dropped out, not to leave them alone, but to be alone with his precious thoughts.
Sheila’s ambitions, however, were asleep. She was more interested in the silent admiration70 of Winfield. The light on his glasses kept her from seeing his eyes, but
she felt that they were soft upon her, because his voice was gentle when he spoke16 the few words he said.
It irritated Sheila to have to hurry back to the theater after dinner to repeat again the afternoon’s repetition. The moon seemed to call down the alley to her not to
give herself to the garish71 ache of the calcium72; and the breeze had fingers twitching73 at her clothes and a voice that sang, “Come walk with me.”
She played the play, but it irked her. When she left the theater at half past eleven she found Winfield waiting, in his car. Vickery was walking at her side, jabbering
about his eternal revisions. Winfield offered to carry them to their hotels. He saw to it that he reached Vickery’s first. When they had dropped Jonah overboard
Winfield asked Sheila to take just a bit of the air for her health’s sake.
She hesitated only a moment. The need of a chaperon hardly occurred to her. She had been living a life of independence for months. She had no fear of Winfield or of
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1
slumber
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| n.睡眠，沉睡状态 | |
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rehearsal
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| n.排练，排演；练习 | |
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alley
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| n.小巷，胡同；小径，小路 | |
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4
oar
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| n.桨，橹，划手；v.划行 | |
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fatigues
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| n.疲劳( fatigue的名词复数 )；杂役；厌倦；（士兵穿的）工作服 | |
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postponed
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| vt.& vi.延期，缓办，（使）延迟vt.把…放在次要地位；[语]把…放在后面（或句尾）vi.（疟疾等）延缓发作（或复发） | |
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thronging
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| v.成群，挤满( throng的现在分词 ) | |
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toil
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| vi.辛劳工作，艰难地行动；n.苦工，难事 | |
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9
awakened
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| v.（使）醒( awaken的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）觉醒；弄醒；（使）意识到 | |
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10
gasping
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| adj. 气喘的, 痉挛的 动词gasp的现在分词 | |
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11
basking
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| v.晒太阳，取暖( bask的现在分词 )；对…感到乐趣；因他人的功绩而出名；仰仗…的余泽 | |
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12
ripples
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| 逐渐扩散的感觉( ripple的名词复数 ) | |
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13
recuperate
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| v.恢复 | |
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14
sketched
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| v.草拟（sketch的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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15
originality
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| n.创造力，独创性；新颖 | |
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16
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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17
abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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provender
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| n.刍草；秣料 | |
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19
forage
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| n.(牛马的)饲料，粮草；v.搜寻，翻寻 | |
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20
spouse
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| n.配偶(指夫或妻) | |
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21
lasting
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| adj.永久的，永恒的；vbl.持续，维持 | |
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22
afterward
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| adv.后来；以后 | |
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cozy
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| adj.亲如手足的，密切的，暖和舒服的 | |
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24
hearth
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| n.壁炉炉床，壁炉地面 | |
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25
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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dismal
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| adj.阴沉的，凄凉的，令人忧郁的，差劲的 | |
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27
consolation
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| n.安慰，慰问 | |
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28
awfully
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| adv.可怕地，非常地，极端地 | |
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29
inhuman
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| adj.残忍的，不人道的，无人性的 | |
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30
dallied
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| v.随随便便地对待( dally的过去式和过去分词 )；不很认真地考虑；浪费时间；调情 | |
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31
laborious
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| adj.吃力的，努力的，不流畅 | |
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32
moody
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| adj.心情不稳的，易怒的，喜怒无常的 | |
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33
berths
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| n.（船、列车等的）卧铺( berth的名词复数 )；（船舶的）停泊位或锚位；差事；船台vt.v.停泊( berth的第三人称单数 )；占铺位 | |
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34
drowsy
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| adj.昏昏欲睡的，令人发困的 | |
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35
royalty
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| n.皇家，皇族 | |
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effaced
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| v.擦掉( efface的过去式和过去分词 )；抹去；超越；使黯然失色 | |
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tardy
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| adj.缓慢的，迟缓的 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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dignified
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| a.可敬的，高贵的 | |
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curb
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| n.场外证券市场，场外交易；vt.制止，抑制 | |
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helping
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| n.食物的一份&adj.帮助人的，辅助的 | |
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chauffeur
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| n.(受雇于私人或公司的)司机；v.为…开车 | |
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touching
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| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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rambled
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| （无目的地）漫游( ramble的过去式和过去分词 )； （喻）漫谈； 扯淡； 长篇大论 | |
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swarm
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| n.(昆虫)等一大群；vi.成群飞舞；蜂拥而入 | |
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monopolize
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| v.垄断，独占，专营 | |
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chatter
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| vi.／n.喋喋不休；短促尖叫；(牙齿)打战 | |
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48
ailment
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| n.疾病，小病 | |
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49
astigmatism
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| n.散光，乱视眼 | |
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50
hampered
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| 妨碍，束缚，限制( hamper的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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51
spinal
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| adj.针的，尖刺的，尖刺状突起的；adj.脊骨的，脊髓的 | |
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52
unpaid
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| adj.未付款的，无报酬的 | |
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mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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flirtation
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| n.调情，调戏，挑逗 | |
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55
wagon
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| n.四轮马车，手推车，面包车；无盖运货列车 | |
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56
vista
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| n.远景，深景，展望，回想 | |
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57
ferocious
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| adj.凶猛的，残暴的，极度的，十分强烈的 | |
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ferociously
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| 野蛮地，残忍地 | |
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swoops
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| 猛扑，突然下降( swoop的名词复数 ) | |
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60
skids
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| n.滑向一侧( skid的名词复数 )；滑道；滚道；制轮器v.（通常指车辆） 侧滑( skid的第三人称单数 )；打滑；滑行；（住在）贫民区 | |
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61
yelps
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| n.（因痛苦、气愤、兴奋等的）短而尖的叫声( yelp的名词复数 )v.发出短而尖的叫声( yelp的第三人称单数 ) | |
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62
sputtering
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| n.反应溅射法；飞溅；阴极真空喷镀；喷射v.唾沫飞溅( sputter的现在分词 )；发劈啪声；喷出；飞溅出 | |
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63
saluting
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| v.欢迎，致敬( salute的现在分词 )；赞扬，赞颂 | |
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64
awe
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| n.敬畏，惊惧；vt.使敬畏，使惊惧 | |
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65
perquisites
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| n.（工资以外的）财务补贴( perquisite的名词复数 )；额外收入；（随职位而得到的）好处；利益 | |
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66
solicitude
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| n.焦虑 | |
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67
espionage
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| n.间谍行为，谍报活动 | |
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68
concocted
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| v.将（尤指通常不相配合的）成分混合成某物( concoct的过去式和过去分词 )；调制；编造；捏造 | |
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69
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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70
admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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71
garish
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| adj.华丽而俗气的，华而不实的 | |
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72
calcium
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| n.钙(化学符号Ca) | |
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73
twitching
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| n.颤搐 | |
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