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Updated: June 16, 2025
Molly was sitting very gracefully in her grandmother's limousine, riding through the parks and avenues with the air of a perfect little lady accustomed to observe the world from the cushioned seat of a brougham or motor-car. Catching sight of a bill board with the announcement of a popular young actress's coming engagement, she remarked:
I knew that he arrived there on the Osprey a few days before the Excelsior sailed." Mr. Brimmer's eyes changed their expression. "And you want to find him?" "No," she said, with an actress's gesture. "I want to know the truth.
The face of the actress's man interested her. It was a long pale face, the mouth weary, in the eyes a strange hot fire of intense enthusiasm. He was young and old and neither. Evidently he had lived every minute of every year of his perhaps forty years. He was wearing a quiet suit of blue and his necktie was of a darker shade of the same color.
Haller, with the actress's sprawling signature at the corner, hung faithfully over the old gentleman's bed. Lady Mirabel wrote much better than Miss Fotheringay had been able to do. Her Ladyship had laboured assiduously to acquire the art of penmanship since her marriage; and, in a common note of invitation or acceptance, acquitted herself very genteelly.
And here he was seated in an actress's room, alone, while his sister was inspecting powder-puffs, washes, patches, and paste jewelry; and not only that, but they were about to take an actor home to supper with them. What he thought about it all he never said.
His ejaculation was something so different from any tone any other person there present could have uttered that the actress's eye dwelt on him for a single moment, and in that moment he felt himself looked through and through. "I sold the young fops a bargain, you mean," was her calm reply; "and now I am come down to the old ones. A truce, Mr. Cibber, what do you understand by an actor?
"My dear fellow, I see it from here if you do your duty. Do you remember the Tragic Muse?" Nash added for explanation. "The Tragic Muse?" "That girl in Paris, whom we heard at the old actress's and afterwards met at the charming entertainment given by your cousin isn't he? the secretary of embassy." "Oh Peter's girl! Of course I remember her."
She had lit the lamp and was listlessly arranging the little room. She looked old and worn. Her colour was gone and her eyes were dull. As she worked, the door opened and Vivienne LeMar walked or, rather, reeled into the room. Estella dropped the book she held and gazed at her as one in a dream. The actress's face was flushed and her hair was wildly disordered.
"I wonder," said one of the actress's adorers, a Canadian, whose face was exactly that of the beaver on the escutcheon of his native province, and whose heavy gallantries she had constantly received with a gay, impertinent nonchalance, "I wonder if we can be going right under that bridge?" "No, sir!" answered the pretty young actress with shocking promptness, "we're going right over it!"
Perhaps complaint would not have mended the matter: but one word of delicate tenderness, or one look that asked for his society, and White's would have been forsaken! Godolphin secretly resented the very evenness of temper he had once almost overprized. "Oh, Godolphin," one evening whispered a young lord, "we sup at the little actress's, the Millinger; you remember the Millinger?
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