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Updated: June 1, 2025
In the room also were Connie Girard and Rose Ransome, who had a bowl of soapsuds and several scissors and orange-wood sticks on the table between them, and were manicuring each other very fastidiously. A third actress, a young Englishwoman with a worn, hard face, rouged cheeks, and glittering eyes, was calling, with her little son, upon Mrs. Tarbury.
Tarbury, dressed in a loose kimono, with her bare feet thrust into well-worn Juliet slippers, was lying across her bed, in the pleasant leisure of Sunday afternoon, a Dramatic Supplement held in one fat ringed hand, her head supported by her pillows in soiled muslin cases, and several satin and velvet cushions from a couch.
But I want to tell you right now, Min," said Emeline, with kindly superiority, "that this isn't the kind of a house I'm crazy about having my daughter in, anyway. It ain't you, so much " "Ha! that's good!" Mrs. Tarbury interpolated, with a sardonic laugh. "But you know very well that such girls as Rosie and Con " Emeline rushed on. "Oh, my God, Em!" Mrs.
Tarbury said, mollified, "if it's a long part." "If it don't take a lot of dressing," Julia said thoughtfully, as she and Miss Girard powdered their noses at the dark mirror of the sideboard. "Don't you be fool enough to do it for a cent under fifty," Emeline said.
The sunlight crept lower and lower over the room's disorder; its last bright triangle was gone, twilight came, and the soft early darkness. Mrs. Tarbury presently called Julia, in mellifluous accents, and the girl pulled herself stiffly from the bed, and went blinking down to an improvised supper.
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