After ten minutes a young man with hair the color of canary feathers hurried down to the gate.
“Come in, Miss Hoyt. Mr. Brady’s on the set, but he’s very anxious to see you. I’m sorry you were kept waiting, but you know some of these French dames8 are worse about pushing themselves in —”
The studio manager opened a small door in the blank wall of stage building and with sudden glad familiarity Rosemary followed him into half darkness. Here and there figures spotted9 the twilight10, turning up ashen11 faces to her like souls in purgatory12 watching the passage of a mortal through. There were whispers and soft voices and, apparently13 from afar, the gentle tremolo of a small organ. Turning the corner made by some flats, they came upon the white crackling glow of a stage, where a French actor — his shirt front, collar, and cuffs14 tinted15 a brilliant pink — and an American actress stood motionless face to face. They stared at each other with dogged eyes, as though they had been in the same position for hours; and still for a long time nothing happened, no one moved. A bank of lights went off with a savage16 hiss17, went on again; the plaintive18 tap of a hammer begged admission to nowhere in the distance; a blue face appeared among the blinding lights above, called something unintelligible19 into the upper blackness. Then the silence was broken by a voice in front of Rosemary.
“Baby, you don’t take off the stockings, you can spoil ten more pairs. That dress is fifteen pounds.”
Stepping backward the speaker ran against Rosemary, whereupon the studio manager said, “Hey, Earl — Miss Hoyt.”
They were meeting for the first time. Brady was quick and strenuous20. As he took her hand she saw him look her over from head to foot, a gesture she recognized and that made her feel at home, but gave her always a faint feeling of superiority to whoever made it. If her person was property she could exercise whatever advantage was inherent in its ownership.
“I thought you’d be along any day now,” Brady said, in a voice that was just a little too compelling for private life, and that trailed with it a faintly defiant21 cockney accent. “Have a good trip?”
“Yes, but we’re glad to be going home.”
“No-o-o!” he protested. “Stay awhile — I want to talk to you. Let me tell you that was some picture of yours — that ‘Daddy’s Girl.’ I saw it in Paris. I wired the coast right away to see if you were signed.”
“I just had — I’m sorry.”
“God, what a picture!”
Not wanting to smile in silly agreement Rosemary frowned.
“Nobody wants to be thought of forever for just one picture,” she said.
“Sure — that’s right. What’re your plans?”
“Mother thought I needed a rest. When I get back we’ll probably either sign up with First National or keep on with Famous.”
“Who’s we?”
“My mother. She decides business matters. I couldn’t do without her.”
Again he looked her over completely, and, as he did, something in Rosemary went out to him. It was not liking22, not at all the spontaneous admiration23 she had felt for the man on the beach this morning. It was a click. He desired her and, so far as her virginal emotions went, she contemplated24 a surrender with equanimity25. Yet she knew she would forget him half an hour after she left him — like an actor kissed in a picture.
“Where are you staying?” Brady asked. “Oh, yes, at Gausse’s. Well, my plans are made for this year, too, but that letter I wrote you still stands. Rather make a picture with you than any girl since Connie Talmadge was a kid.”
“I feel the same way. Why don’t you come back to Hollywood?”
“I can’t stand the damn place. I’m fine here. Wait till after this shot and I’ll show you around.”
Walking onto the set he began to talk to the French actor in a low, quiet voice.
Five minutes passed — Brady talked on, while from time to time the Frenchman shifted his feet and nodded. Abruptly26, Brady broke off, calling something to the lights that startled them into a humming glare. Los Angeles was loud about Rosemary now. Unappalled she moved once more through the city of thin partitions, wanting to be back there. But she did not want to see Brady in the mood she sensed he would be in after he had finished and she left the lot with a spell still upon her. The Mediterranean27 world was less silent now that she knew the studio was there. She liked the people on the streets and bought herself a pair of espadrilles on the way to the train.
Her mother was pleased that she had done so accurately28 what she was told to do, but she still wanted to launch her out and away. Mrs. Speers was fresh in appearance but she was tired; death beds make people tired indeed and she had watched beside a couple.
点击收听单词发音
1 rugged | |
adj.高低不平的,粗糙的,粗壮的,强健的 | |
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2 reconstruction | |
n.重建,再现,复原 | |
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3 grilled | |
adj. 烤的, 炙过的, 有格子的 动词grill的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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4 monstrous | |
adj.巨大的;恐怖的;可耻的,丢脸的 | |
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5 cork | |
n.软木,软木塞 | |
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6 dwarfed | |
vt.(使)显得矮小(dwarf的过去式与过去分词形式) | |
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7 shack | |
adj.简陋的小屋,窝棚 | |
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8 dames | |
n.(在英国)夫人(一种封号),夫人(爵士妻子的称号)( dame的名词复数 );女人 | |
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9 spotted | |
adj.有斑点的,斑纹的,弄污了的 | |
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10 twilight | |
n.暮光,黄昏;暮年,晚期,衰落时期 | |
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11 ashen | |
adj.灰的 | |
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12 purgatory | |
n.炼狱;苦难;adj.净化的,清洗的 | |
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13 apparently | |
adv.显然地;表面上,似乎 | |
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14 cuffs | |
n.袖口( cuff的名词复数 )v.掌打,拳打( cuff的第三人称单数 ) | |
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15 tinted | |
adj. 带色彩的 动词tint的过去式和过去分词 | |
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16 savage | |
adj.野蛮的;凶恶的,残暴的;n.未开化的人 | |
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17 hiss | |
v.发出嘶嘶声;发嘘声表示不满 | |
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18 plaintive | |
adj.可怜的,伤心的 | |
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19 unintelligible | |
adj.无法了解的,难解的,莫明其妙的 | |
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20 strenuous | |
adj.奋发的,使劲的;紧张的;热烈的,狂热的 | |
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21 defiant | |
adj.无礼的,挑战的 | |
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22 liking | |
n.爱好;嗜好;喜欢 | |
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23 admiration | |
n.钦佩,赞美,羡慕 | |
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24 contemplated | |
adj. 预期的 动词contemplate的过去分词形式 | |
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25 equanimity | |
n.沉着,镇定 | |
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26 abruptly | |
adv.突然地,出其不意地 | |
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27 Mediterranean | |
adj.地中海的;地中海沿岸的 | |
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28 accurately | |
adv.准确地,精确地 | |
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