October 6, 2025 • 44 mins
10 - Sally in the Shadows. The Adventures of Sally by P. G. Wodehouse.
This romantic comedy stars a young American girl named Sally, who inherits a considerable fortune and finds her life turned upside down. The typically Wodehouseian cast includes Sally's ambitious brother, an assortment of theater people, a pair of English cousins, and, of course, an Uncle. It's jolly good fun!
This romantic comedy stars a young American girl named Sally, who inherits a considerable fortune and finds her life turned upside down. The typically Wodehouseian cast includes Sally's ambitious brother, an assortment of theater people, a pair of English cousins, and, of course, an Uncle. It's jolly good fun!
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Episode Transcript
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Speaker 1 (00:00):
Chapter ten of the Adventures of Sallie. This is a
LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain.
For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox dot org.
The Adventures of Sallie by P. G. Woodhouse. Chapter ten,
Sally in the Shadows One. It seemed to Sally, in
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the weeks that followed her reunion with Ginger Camp, that
a sort of golden age had set in on all
the frontiers of her little kingdom. There was peace and prosperity,
and she woke each morning in a world so neatly
smoothed and ironed out that the most captious pessimist could
hardly have found anything in it to criticize. True, Gerald
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was still a thousand miles away, going to Chicago to
superintend the opening of the Primrose Way, for Fillmore had
acceded to his friend Ike's suggestion in the manner of
producing it first in Chicago, and he had been called
in by a distracted manager to revise the work of
a brother dramatist whose comedy was in difficulties at one
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of the theaters in that city, And this meant that
he would have to remain on the spot for some
time to come. It was disappointing for Sally had been
looking forward to having him back in New York for
a few days, but she refused to allow herself to
be depressed. Life as a whole was much too satisfactory
for that. Life, indeed, in every other respect, seemed perfect.
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Philmore was going strong, Ginger was off her conscience, she
had found an apartment, her new hat suited her, and
the Primrose Way was a tremendous success. Chicago, it appeared
from Fillmore's account, was paying little attention to anything except
the Primrose Way. National problems had ceased to interest the citizens.
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Local problems left them cold. Their minds were riveted to
the exclusion of all else on the problem of how
to secure seats. The production of the piece, according to Fillmore,
had been the most terrific experience that had come to
stir Chicago since the Great Fire. Of all these satisfactory happenings,
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the most satisfactory to Sally's thinking was the fact that
the problem of Ginger's future had been solved. Ginger had
entered the service of the Fillmore Nicholas Theatrical Enterprises Limited,
Managing Director. Fillmore Nicholas Fillmore would have made the title longer.
Only that was all that would go on the brass plate,
and was to be found daily in the outer office,
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his duties consisting mainly, it seemed, in reading the evening papers.
What exactly he was even Ginger hardly knew. Sometimes he
felt like the man at the wheel, sometimes like a
glorified office boy, and not so very glorified at that.
For the most part he had to prevent the mob
rushing and getting at Fillmore, who sat in semi regal
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state in the inner office pondering great schemes. But though
there might be an occasional passing uncertainty in Ginger's mind
as to just what he was supposed to be doing
in exchange for the fifty dollars he drew every Friday,
there was nothing uncertain about his gratitude to Sallie for
having pulled the strings and enabled him to do it.
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He tried to thank her every time they met, and
nowadays they were meeting frequently, for Ginger was helping her
to furnish her new apartment. In this task he spared
no efforts. He said that it kept him in condition.
And what I mean to say is, said Ginger, pausing
in the act of carrying a massive easy chair to
the third spot, which Sallie had selected in the last
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ten minutes. If I didn't sweat about a bit and
help you after the way you got me that job,
Ginger desist, said Sallie. Yes, but honestly, if you don't
stop it, I'll make you move that chair into the
next room, shall i? Ginger rubbed his blistered hands and
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took a new grip. Anything you say, silly, of course not.
The only other rooms are my bedroom, the bathroom and
the kitchen. What on earth would I want a great
lumbering chair in them? For all the same I believe
the first we chose was the best. Back She goes
Then what, Sallie reflected frowningly. This business of setting up
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house was causing her much thought. No, she decided, by
the window is better. She looked at him remorsefully. I'm
giving you a lot of trouble. Trouble, Ginger, accompanied by
a chair, staggered across the room. The way I look
at it is this, he wiped a bead of perspiration
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from his freckled forehead. You got me that job, and
stop right ho Still you did you know? Sallie sat
down in the arm chair and st watching ginger work
had given her a vicarious fatigue. She surveyed the room proudly.
It was certainly beginning to look cozy. The pictures were up,
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the carpet down, the furniture very neatly in order. For
almost the first time in her life, she had the
RESTful sensation of being at home. She had always longed
during the past three years of boarding house existence, for
a settled abode, a place where she could lock the
door on herself and be alone. The apartment was small,
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but it was undeniably a haven. She looked about her
and could see no flaw in it, except she had
a sudden sense of something missing. Hullo, she said, where's
that photograph of me? I'm sure I put it on
the mantelpiece yesterday. His exertions seemed to have brought the
blood to Ginger's face. He was a rich red. He
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inspected the mantelpiece narrowly. No, no photograph here, I know
there isn't, but it was there yesterday, or was it?
I know I meant to put it there, Perhaps I forgot.
It's the most beautiful thing you ever saw, not a
bit like me? But what of that they touch em
up in the dark room. You know I value it
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because it looks the way I should like to look
if I could. I've never had a beautiful photograph taken
of myself, said Ginger, solemnly, with gentle regret. Cheer up. Oh,
I don't mind, I only mentioned Ginger, said, Sallie, pardon
my interrupting your remarks, which I know are valuable. But
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this chair is not right. It ought to be where
it was at the beginning. Could you give your imitation
of a pack mule just once more? And after that
I'll make you some tea if there's any tea, or
milk or cups. There are cups, all right, I know,
because I smashed too the day before yesterday. I'll nip
round the corner for some milk, shall I? Yes, please nip.
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All This hard work has taken it out of me terribly.
Over the tea table, Sally became inquisitive. What I can't
understand about this job of yours, Ginger, which, as you
are just about to observe, I was noble enough to
secure for you, is the amount of leisure that seems
to go with it. How is it that you are
able to spend your valuable time, Fillmore's valuable time, rather
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jumbling with my furniture every day? Oh? I can usually
get off. But oughtn't you to be at your post
doing whatever it is you do? What do you do?
Ginger stirred his teeth thoughtfully and gave his mind to
the question. While I sort of mess about, you know,
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he pondered, I interview divers blighters and tell em your
brother is out, and take their names and addresses, and oh,
all that sort of thing. Does Fillmore consult you much?
He lets me read some of the plays that are
sent in awful taush most of them. Sometimes he sends
me off to a vaudeville house of an evening as
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a treat to see some special act, you know, to
report on it in case he might want to use
it for this review of his. Which review? Didn't you
know he was going to put on a review, Oh,
rather a whacking big affair, going to cut out the
follies and all that sort of thing. But my goodness,
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Sallie was alarmed. It was just like Fillmore, she felt,
to go branching out into these expensive schemes. When he
ought to be moving warily and trying to consolidate the
small success he had had all his life. He had
thought in millions, where the prudent man would have been
content with hundreds, an inexhaustible fount of optimism bubbled eternally
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within him. That's rather ambitious, she said, Yes, ambitious sort
of cove your brother quite the Napoleon. I shall have
to talk to him, said Sallie decidedly. She was annoyed
with Fillmore. Everything had been going so beautifully, with everybody
peaceful and happy and prosperous, and no anxiety anywhere, till
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he had spoiled things. Now she would have to start
worrying again. Of course, argued Ginger. There's money in reviews
over in London. Fellows make pots out of them. Sallie
shook her head. It won't do, she said, And I'll
tell you another thing that won't do. This arm chair.
Of course, it ought to be over by the window.
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You can see that yourself, can't you, absolutely, said Ginger, patiently,
preparing for action once more. Two Sallie's anxiety with regard
to her ebulliant brother was not lessened by the receipt.
Shortly afterwards, of a telegram from Miss Winch in Chicago.
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Have you been feeding Fillmore meat? The telegram ran, and
while Sallie could not have claimed that she completely understood it,
there was a sinister suggestion about the message which decided
her to wait no longer before making investigations. She tore
herself away from the joys of furnishing and went round
to the headquarters of the Fillmore Nicholas Theatrical Enterprises Limited,
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Managing Director Fillmore Nicholas without delay ginger, she discovered on
arrival was absent from his customary post, his place in
the outer office being taken by a lad of tender
years and pimply exterior, who thawed and cast off a
proud reserve on hearing Sallie's name, and told her to
walk right in. Sallie walked right in and found Philmore
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with his feet on an untidy desk, studying what appeared
to be costume designs Ah, Sallie, he said, in the
distrait tired voice which speaks of vast preoccupations. Prosperity was
still putting in its silent, deadly work on the hope
of the American theater. What even at as late an epoch.
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As the return from Detroit had been merely a smooth
fullness around the angle of the jaw was now frankly
and without disguise, a double chin. He was wearing a
new waistcoat and it was unbuttoned. I am rather busy,
he went on, always glad to see you, but I
am rather busy. I have a hundred things to attend to. Well,
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attend to me, that'll only make a hundred and one,
Phil what's all this I hear about? A review? Philmore
looked as like a small boy caught in the act
of stealing jam as it is possible for a great
theatrical manager to look. He had been wondering in his
darker moments what Sally would say about that project when
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she heard of it, and he had hoped she would
not hear of it until all the preparations were so
complete that interference would be impossible. He was extremely fond
of Sally, but there was he knew, a lamentable vein
of caution in her make up, which might lead her
to criticize. And how can your man of affairs carry
on if women are buzzing round criticizing all the time.
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He picked up a pen and put it down, buttoned
his waistcoat and unbuttoned it, and scratched his ear with
one of the costume designs. Oh yes, the review it's
no good saying, oh yes, you know perfectly well, it's
a crazy idea. Really, these business matters, this interference. I
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don't want to run your affairs for you, Phil, but
that money of mine does make me a sort of partner,
I suppose, and I think I have a right to
raise a loud yell of agony when I see you
risking it on a pardon me, said Philmore, loftily, looking happier.
Let me explain, women, never understand business men. Your money
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is tied up exclusively in the Primrose way, which, as
you know, is a tremendous success. You have nothing whatever
to worry about as regards any new production I may make.
I'm not worrying about the money. I'm worrying about you.
A tolerant smile played about the lower slopes of Fillmore's face.
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Don't be alarmed about me, I'm all right. You aren't
all right. You've no business when you've only just got
started as a manager to be rushing into an enormous
production like this. You can't afford it, my dear child.
As I said before, women cannot understand these things. A
man in my position can always command money for a
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new venture. Do you mean to say you have found
somebody silly enough to put up money? Certainly, I don't
know that there is any secret about it. Your friend,
mister Carmle, has taken an interest in some of my
forthcoming productions. What Sallie had been disturbed before, but she
was aghast now this was something she had never anticipated.
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Bruce Carmile seemed to be creeping into her life like
an advancing tide. There appeared to be no eluding him.
Wherever she turned, there he was, and she could do
nothing but rage impotently. The situation was becoming impossible. Fillmore
misinterpreted the note of dismay in her voice. It's quite
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all right, he assured her. He's a very rich man,
large private means besides his big income. Even if anything
goes wrong, it isn't that. It's the hopelessness of explaining
to Fillmore stopped Sallie. And while she was chafing at
this new complication, which had come to upset the orderly
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routine of her life, there was an outburst of voices
in the other office. Ginger's understudies seemed to be endeavoring
to convince somebody that the Big Chief was engaged and
not to be intruded upon. In this he was unsuccessful,
for the door opened tempestuously, and Miss Winch sailed in, Philmore,
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you poor nut, said miss Winch. For though she might
wrap up her meaning somewhat obscurely in her telegraphic communications,
when it came to the spoken word, she was directness itself.
Stop picking straws in your hair and listen to me,
you're dippy. The last time Sallie had seen Philmore's fiancee,
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she had been impressed by her imperturbable calm. Miss Winch
in Detroit had seemed a girl whom nothing could ruffle.
That she had lapsed now from this serene placidity struck
Sallie as ominous. Slightly, though she knew her, she felt
that it could be no ordinary happening that had so
animated her sister in law to be Ah, here you are,
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said Phillmore. He had started to his feet indignantly at
the opening of the door, like a lion bearded in
its den. But calm had returned when he saw who
the intruder was. Yes, here I am, Miss Winch dropped
despairingly into a swivel chair and endeavored to restore herself
with a stick of chewing gum. Pillmore, Darling, you are
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the sweetest thing on earth and I love you. But
on present form you could just walk straight into Bloomingdale
and they'd give you the royal suite. My dear girl,
what do you think? Demanded Miss Winch, turning to Sallie.
I've just been telling him, said Sallie, welcoming this ally.
I think it's absurd at this stage of things for
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him to put on an enormous review review. Miss Winch
stopped in the act of gnawing her gum. What review?
She flung up her arms. I shall have to swallow
this gum, she said. You can't chew with your head
going round. Are you putting on a review too? Fillmore
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was buttoning and unbuttoning his waistcoat. He had a hounded look. Certainly, certainly,
he replied, in a tone of some feverishness. I wish
you girls would leave me to manage dippy, said Miss Wench.
Once more telegraphic address tea pot Matteawan. She swiveled round
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to Sallie again. Say listen, this boy must be stopped.
We must form a gang in his best interests and
get him put away. What do you think he proposes doing.
I'll give you three guesses. Oh, what's the use you'd
never hit it. This poor wandering lad has got it
all fixed up to star me me in a new show.
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Philmore removed a hand from his waistcoat buttons and waved
it protestingly. I have used my own judgment, yes, sir,
proceeded Miss Winch, riding over the interruption. That's what he's
planning to spring on an unsuspicious public. I'm sitting peacefully
in my room at the hotel in Chicago, pronging a
few cents worth of scrambled eggs and reading the morning paper.
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When the telephone rings. Gentlemen below would like to see me. Oh,
ask him to wait. Business of flinging on a few
clothes down in elevator, bright sunrise effects in lobby? What
on earth do you mean? The gentleman had a head
of red hair which had to be seen to be believed,
explained Miss Winch lit up. The lobby management had switched
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off all the electrics for sake of economy. An englishman,
he was nice fellow named Kemp, oh is ginger in Chicago,
said Sallie. I wondered why he wasn't on his little
chair in the outer office. I sent Kemp to Chicago,
said Fillmore, to have a look at the show. It
is my policy if I am unable to pay periodical
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visits myself, to send a representative. Save it up for
the long winter evenings, advised Miss Winch, cutting in on
this statement of managerial tactics. Mister Kemp may have been
there to look at the show, but his chief reason
for coming was to tell me to beat it back
to New York to enter into my kingdom. Fillmore wanted
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me on the spot. He told me so that I
could sit around in this office here interviewing my supporting company. Me.
Can you or can you not? Inquired Miss Winch. Frankly
tie it well, Sally hesitated. Don't say it. I know
it just as well as you do. It's too sad
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for words. You persist in underestimating your abilities, Gladys, said Fillmore. Reproachfully,
I have had a certain amount of experience in theatrical matters.
I have seen a good deal of acting, and I
assure you that as a character actress, you, miss winch
Rose swiftly from her seat, kissed Fillmore energetically, and sat
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down again. She produced another stick of chewing gum, then
shook her head and replaced it in her bag. You're
a darling old thing to talk like that, she said.
And I hate to wake you out of your day dreams,
but honestly, Philmore, dear, do just step out of the
padded cell for one moment and listen to reason. I
know exactly what has been passing in your poor disordered bean.
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You took Elsa Doland out of a minor part and
made her a star. Over night, she goes to Chicago,
and the critics and everybody else rave about her. As
a matter of fact, she said to Sally, with enthusiasm
for hers was an honest and generous nature. You can't realize,
not having seen her play there, what an amazing hit
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she has made. She really is a sensation. Everybody says
she's going to be the biggest thing on record. Very well,
then what does Philmore do? The poor fish claps his
hand to his forehead and cries gadzooks an idea. I've
done it before, I'll do it again. I'm the fellow
who can make a star out of anything, and he
picks on me, my dear girl. Now, the flaw in
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the scheme is this Elsa is a genius, and if
he hadn't made her a star, somebody else would have done.
But little Gladys, that's something else again. She turned to Sallie.
You've seen me in action, and let me tell you,
you've seen me at my best. Give me a maid's
part with a tray to carry on in Act one,
and a couple of yes madams in Act two, and
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I'm there. Ellen Terry hasn't anything on me when it
comes to saying yes madam. And I'm willing to back
myself for gold notes or Lima beans against Sarah Bernhardt
as a tray carrier. But there I finish. That lets
me out, and anybody who thinks otherwise is going to
lose a lot of money between ourselves. The only thing
I can do really well is to cook, my dear Gladys, cried,
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fillmore revolted. I'm a heaven born cook, and I don't
mind notifying the world to that effect. I can cook
a chicken casserole so that you would leave home and
mother for it. Also my English pork pies. One of
these days I'll take an afternoon off and assemble one
for you. You'd be so prized. But acting no, I
can't do it, and I don't want to do it.
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I only went on the stage for fun, and my
idea of fun isn't to plow through a star part
with all the critics waving their axes in the front row,
and me knowing all the time that it's taking money
out of Fillmore's bank roll that ought to be going
towards buying the little home with stationary wash tubs. Well
that's that, Phillmore, old darling, I thought i'd just mention it.
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Sallie could not help being sorry for Fillmore. He was
sitting with his chin on his hands, staring moodily before
him Napoleon at Elba. It was plain that this project
of taking miss Winch by the scruff of the neck
and hurling her to the heights had been very near
his heart. If that's how you feel, he said, in
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a stricken voice, There is nothing more to say. Oh,
yes there is. We will now talk about this review
of yours. It's off. Fillmore bounded to his feet. He
thumped the desk with a well nourished fist. A man
can stand just so much. It is not off, great Heavens,
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it's too much. I will not put up with this
interference with my business concerns. I will not be tied
and hampered here. I am a man of broad vision
and and broad vision. I form my plans, my plans,
I form them, I shape my schemes. And what happens?
A horde of girls flock into my private office while
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I am endeavoring to concentrate and concentrate. I won't stand it. Advice, yes,
interference no, I I I and kindly remember that. The
door closed with a bang. A fainter detonation announced the
whirlwind passage through the outer office. Footsteps died away down
the corridor. Sallie looked at Miss Winch, stunned. A roused
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and militant Fillmore was new to her. Miss Winch took
out the stick of chewing gum again and unwrapped it.
Isn't he cute? She said? I hope he doesn't get
the soft kind, she murmured, chewing reflectively. The soft kind
He'll be back soon with a box of candy, explained
Miss Winch. And he will get that sloshy, creamy sort,
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though I keep telling him I like the other. Well,
one thing's certain. Philmore's got it up his nose. He's
beginning to hop about and sing in the sunlight. It's
going to be hard work to get that boy down
to earth again. Miss Winch heaved a gentle sigh. I
should like him to have enough left in the old
stocking to pay the first year's rent. When the wedding
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bells rang out, she bit meditatively on her chewing gum
not She said that it matters. I'd be just as
happy in two rooms and a kitchenette so long as
Fillmore was there. You've no notion how dippy I am
about him. Her freckled face glowed. He grows on me
like a darned drug. And the funny thing is that
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I keep right on admiring him, though I can see
all the while that he's the most perfect chump. He
is a chump, you know. That's what I love about him.
That and the way his ears wiggle when he gets excited.
Chumps always make the best husbands. When you marry Sallie,
grab it, chump, tap his forehead first, and if it
rings solid, don't hesitate. All the unhappy marriages come from
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the husband having brains. What good are brains to a man?
They only unsettle him. She broke off and scrutinized Sallie closely.
Say what do you do with your skin? She spoke
with solemn earnestness, which made Sallie laugh. What do I
do with my skin? I just carry it around with me,
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well said miss Winch. Enviously, I wish I could train
my darned fool of a complexion to get that way.
Freckles are the devil. When I was eight, I had
the finest collection in the Middle West, and I've been
adding to it right along. Some folks say, lemon juice'll
cure em mine, lap up all I give em an
ask for more. There's only one way of getting rid
of freckles, and that is to saw the head off
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at the neck. But why do you want to get
rid of them? Why Because a sensitive girl, anxious to
retain her future husband's love doesn't enjoy going about looking
like something out of a dime museum. How absurd pillmore
worships freckles. Did he tell you so, asked Miss Wench eagerly.
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Not in so many words, but you can see it
in his eye. Well, he certainly asked me to marry him,
knowing all about them. I will say that. And what's more,
I don't think feminine loveliness means much to Fillmore, or
he'd never have picked on me. Still, it is calculated
to give a girl a jar, you must admit when
she picks up a magazine and reads an advertisement of
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a face cream beginning, your husband is growing cold to you?
Can you blame him? Have you really tried to cure
those unsightly blemishes meaning what I've got? Still I haven't
noticed Fillmore growing cold to me, so maybe it's all right.
It was a subdued Sallie who received Ginger when he
called at her apartment a few days later on his
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return from Chicago. It seemed to her, thinking over the
recent scene, that matters were even worse than she had feared.
This absurd review, which she had looked on as a
mere isolated outbreak of foolishness, was it would appear only
a specimen of the sort of thing her misguided brother
proposed to do. A sample selected at random from a
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wholesale lot of frantic schemes. Phillmore, there was no longer
any room for doubt was preparing to express his great
soul on a vast scale, and she could not dissuade him.
A humiliating thought. She had grown so accustomed through the
years to being the dominating mind that this revolt from
her authority made her feel helpless and inadequate. Her self
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confidence was shaken, and Bruce Carmyle was financing him. It
was illogical, but Sally could not help feeling that, when
she had not the optimism to say if he lost
his money, she would somehow be under an obligation to him,
as if the disaster had been her fault. She disliked
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with a wholehearted intensity the thought of being under an
obligation to mister Carlyle. Ginger said he had looked in
to inspect the furniture on the chance that Sallie might
want it shifted again, but Sallie had no criticisms to
make on that subject. Weightier matters occupied her mind. She
sat Ginger down in the arm chair and started to
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pour out her troubles. It soothed her to talk to
him in a world which had somehow become chaotic again
after an all too brief period of peace. He was
solid and consoling. I shouldn't worry, observed Ginger, with winch
like calm. When she had finished drawing for him the
picture of a Phillmore rampant against a background of expensive reviews,
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Sallie nearly shook him. It it's all very well to
tell me not to worry, she cried, How can I
help worrying? Fillmore is simply a baby, and he's just
playing the fool. He has lost his head completely and
I can't stop him. That is the awful part of it.
I used to be able to look him in the
eye and he would wag his tail and crawl back
into his basket. But now I seem to have no
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influence at all over him. He just snorts and goes
on running round in circles, breathing fire. Ginger did not
abandon his attempts to indicate the silver lining. I think
you are making too much of all this, you know.
I mean to say, it's quite likely he's found some mug.
What I mean is it's just possible that your brother
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isn't standing the entire racket himself. Perhaps some rich Johnny
has breezed along with a pot of money. It often
happens like that. You know, you read in the paper
that some manager or other is putting on some show
or other, when really the chap who's actually supplying the
pieces of eight is some anonymous lad in the background.
That is just what has happened, and it ma makes
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it worse than ever. Fillmore tells me that your cousin,
mister Carlyle, is providing the money. This did interest Ginger.
He sat up with a jerk. Oh I say, he exclaimed, Yes,
said Sallie, still agitated but pleased that she had at
last shaken him out of his trying attitude of detachment.
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Ginger was scowling. That's a bit off, he observed. I
think so too. I don't like that, nor do I
do you know what I think? Said Ginger, Ever, a
man of plain speech and a reckless plunger into delicate subjects.
The Biter's in love with you, Sallie flushed. After examining
(30:48):
the evidence before her, She had reached the same conclusion
in the privacy of her thoughts, but it embarrassed her
to hear the thing put into bald words. I know Bruce,
continued ginger, and believe me, he isn't the sort of
cove to take any kind of flutter without a jolly
good motive. Of course, he's got tons of money. His
(31:08):
old governor was the Carmle of Carmle, Brent and Company,
coal mine's up in Wales and all that sort of thing.
And I suppose he must have left Bruce something like
half a million. No need for the fellow to have
worked at all if he hadn't wanted to. As far
as having the stuff goes, he's in a position to
back all the shows he wants to. But the point
is it's right out of his line. He doesn't do
(31:29):
that sort of thing, not a drop of sporting blood
in the chap. Why I've known him stick the whole
family on to me just because it got noised about
that I'd dropped a couple of quid on the Grand National.
If he's really brought himself to the point of shelling
out on a risky proposition like a show, it means something,
take my word for it, and I don't see what
(31:50):
else it can mean, except well, I mean to say,
is it likely that he's doing it simply to make
your brother look on him as a good egg and
a pal and all that sort of thing. No, it's
not agreed, Sallie. But don't let's talk about it any more.
Tell me all about your trip to Chicago. All right,
But returning to this binge for a moment. I don't
(32:12):
see how it matters to you one way or the other.
You're engaged to another fellow, and when Bruce rolls up
and says what about it? You've simply to tell him
that the shot isn't on the board, and will he
kindly melt away? Then you hand him his hat and
out he goes. Sallie gave a troubled laugh. You think
that's simple, do you? I suppose you imagine that a
(32:33):
girl enjoys that sort of thing. Oh, what's the use
of talking about it? It's horrible and no amount of
arguing will make it anything else. Do let's change the subject.
How did you like Chicago? Oh? All right? Rather a
grubby sort of place, so I've always heard. But you
ought not to mind that being a Londoner. Oh I
(32:55):
didn't mind it. As a matter of fact. I had
rather a good time. Saw one or two shows you know,
got in on my face as your brother's representative, which
was all to the good. By the way, it's rummy
how you run into people when you move about, isn't it?
You talk as if you had been dashing about the
streets with your eyes shut. Did you meet somebody you knew?
(33:15):
Chap I hadn't seen for years? Was at school with him,
as a matter of fact, fellow named Foster. But I
expect you know him too, don't you by name? At
any rate? He wrote your brother's show. Sallie's heart jumped.
Oh did you meet Gerald Foster? Ran into him one
night at the theater? And you were really at school
(33:37):
with him? Yes? He was in the footer team with
me my last year. Was he a scrum half too,
asked Sallie dimpling. Ginger looked shocked. You don't have two
scrum halves in a team, he said, pained at this
ignorance on a vital matter. The scrum half is the
half who works the scrum. And yes, you told me
(34:01):
that at Roville. What was Gerald, mister Foster then a
six and seven eighths or something? He was a wing three,
said Ginger, with a gravity befitting his theme rather fast
with a fairly decent swerve, but he would not learn
to give the reverse pass inside to the center. Ghastly,
(34:21):
said Sallie. If, said Ginger earnestly, a wing's bottled up
by his wing and the back. The only thing he
can do if he doesn't want to be bundled into
touch is to give the reverse pass. I know, said Sallie.
If I've thought that once, I've thought it a hundred times.
How nice it must have been for you meeting again.
(34:43):
I suppose you had all sorts of things to talk about.
Ginger shook his head. Not such a frightful lot. We
were never very thick, you see this chap Foster was
by way of being a bit of a worm. What
a tick? Explained Ginger. A rotter. He was pretty generally
barred at school. Personally, I never had any use for
(35:05):
him at all. Sallie stiffened. She had liked Ginger up
to that moment, and later on no doubt she would
resume her liking for him, But in the immediate moment
which followed these words, she found herself regarding him with
stormy hostility. How dare he sit there saying things like
that about Gerald? Ginger, who was lighting a cigarette without
(35:28):
a care in the world, proceeded to develop his theme.
It's a rummy thing about school. Generally, if a fellow's
good at games in the cricket team or the footer
team and so forth, he can hardly help being fairly popular.
But this blighter Foster, somehow nobody seemed very keen on him.
Of course, he had a few of his own pals,
(35:49):
but most of the chaps rather gave him a miss.
It may have been because he was a bit sidy,
had rather an edge on him, you know. Personally. The
reason an eye barred him was because he wasn't straight.
You didn't notice it if you weren't thrown a goodish
bit with him, of course. But he and I were
in the same house, and Sallie managed to control her voice,
(36:12):
though it shook a little. I ought to tell you,
she said, and her tone would have warned him had
he been less occupied, that mister Foster is a great
friend of mine. But Ginger was intent on the lighting
of his cigarette, a delicate operation. With the breeze blowing
in through the open window. His head was bent and
(36:33):
he had formed his hands into a protective framework which
half hid his face. If you take my tip, he mumbled,
you'll drop him. He's a wrong un He spoke with
the absent minded drawl of preoccupation, and Sallie could keep
the conflagration under no longer. She was a flame from
head to foot. It may interest you to know, she said,
(36:57):
shooting the words out like bullets from between clenched teeth,
that Gerald Foster is the man I am engaged to marry.
Ginger's head came slowly up from his cupped hands. Amazement
was in his eyes, and a sort of horror. The
cigarette hung limply from his mouth. He did not speak,
(37:17):
but sat looking at her dazed. Then the match burnt
his fingers, and he dropped it with a start. The
sharp sting of it seemed to wake him. He blinked.
You're joking, he said, feebly. There was a note of
wistfulness in his voice. It isn't true. Sallie kicked the
leg of her chair irritably. She read insolent disapproval into
(37:40):
the words he was daring to criticize. Of course, it's true,
But a look of hopeless misery came into Ginger's pleasant face.
He hesitated, then, with the air of a man bracing
himself to a dreadful but unavoidable ordeal. He went on.
He spoke gruffly, and his eyes, which had been fixed
(38:03):
on Sallie's, wandered down to the match on the carpet.
It was still glowing, and mechanically he put a foot
on it. Foster's married, he said shortly. He was married
the day before I left Chicago. Three. It seemed to
(38:23):
Ginger that in the silence which followed, brooding over the
room like a living presence, even the noises in the
street had ceased, as though what he had said had
been a spell, cutting Sallie and himself off from the
outer world. Only the little clock on the mantelpiece ticked, ticked, ticked,
like a heart beating fast. He stared straight before him,
(38:48):
conscious of a strange rigidity. He felt incapable of movement,
as he had sometimes felt in nightmares. And not for
all the wealth of America could he have raised his
eyes just then to Sallie's face. He could see her hands.
They had tightened on the arm of the chair. The
knuckles were white. He was blaming himself bitterly now for
(39:09):
his oafish clumsiness in blurting out the news so abruptly
and yet curiously. In his remorse, there was something of elation.
Never before had he felt so near to her. It
was as though a barrier that had been between them
had fallen. Something moved. It was Sally's hand, slowly relaxing.
(39:30):
The fingers loosened, their grip tightened again, Then, as if
reluctantly relaxed once more, the blood flowed back. Your cigarettes out,
Ginger started violently. Her voice, coming suddenly out of the silence,
had struck him like a blow. Oh thanks. He forced
(39:50):
himself to light another match. It sputtered noisily in the stillness.
He blew it out, and the uncanny quiet fell again.
Ginger drew at his cigarette mechanically. For an instant he
had seen Sallie's face, white cheeked and bright eyed, the
chin tilted like a flag flying over a stricken field.
(40:13):
His mood changed. All his emotions had crystallized into a dull,
futile rage, a helpless fury directed at a man a
thousand miles away. Sallie spoke again. Her voice sounded small
and far off, an odd flatness in it married. Ginger
(40:34):
threw his cigarette out of the window. He was shocked
to find that he was smoking. Nothing could have been
farther from his intention than to smoke. He nodded, whom
has he married? Ginger coughed, Something was sticking in his throat,
and speech was difficult. A girl called Doland. Oh else, Doland,
(40:59):
Yes else, Doland. Sallie drummed with her fingers on the
arm of the chair. Oh else, Doland. There was silence again.
The little clock ticked fussily on the mantelpiece. Out in
the street, automobile horns were blowing. From somewhere in the distance.
Came faintly the rumble of an elevated train. Familiar sounds,
(41:23):
but they came to Sallie now with a curious, unreal
sense of novelty. She felt as though she had been
projected into another world where everything was new and strange
and horrible, everything except Ginger. About him, in the mere
sight of him, there was something known and hardening. Suddenly
(41:44):
she became aware that she was feeling that Ginger was
behaving extremely well. She seemed to have been taken out
of herself, and to be regarding the scene from outside,
regarding it coolly and critically, And it was plain to
her that Ginger, in this upheaval of all things, was
bearing himself perfectly. He had attempted no banal words of sympathy.
(42:05):
He had said nothing, and he was not looking at her,
and Sallie felt that sympathy just now would be torture,
and that she could not have borne to be looked at.
Ginger was wonderful in that curious, detached spirit that had
come upon her. She examined him impartially, and gratitude welled
up from the very depths of her. There he sat,
(42:28):
saying nothing and doing nothing, as if he knew that
all she needed. The only thing that could keep her
sane in this world of nightmare was the sight of
that dear, flaming head of his, that made her feel
that the world had not slipped away from her altogether.
Ginger did not move. The room had grown almost dark now,
(42:49):
A spear of light from a street lamp shone in
through the window. Sallie got up abruptly, slowly, gradually, inch
by inch, the great suffer vocating cloud which had been
crushing her had lifted. She felt alive again. Her black
hour had gone, and she was back in the world
of living things. Once more. She was afire, with a fierce,
(43:12):
tearing pain that tormented her almost beyond endurance. But dimly
she sensed the fact that she had passed through something
that was worse than pain, and with Ginger's stolid presence
to aid her, had passed triumphantly. Go and have dinner, Ginger,
she said, you must be starving. Ginger came to life
(43:34):
like a courtier in the palace of the sleeping Beauty.
He shook himself and rose stiffly from his chair. Oh no,
he said, not a bit really. Sallie switched on the
light and set him blinking. She could bear to be
looked at. Now, go and dine, she said, dine lavishly
(43:54):
and luxuriously. You've certainly earned Her voice faltered for a moment.
She held out her hand Ginger, She said, shakily, I Ginger,
you're a pal. When he had gone, Sallie sat down
and began to cry. Then she dried her eyes in
(44:15):
a business like manner. There, miss Nicholas, she said, you
couldn't have done that an hour ago. We will now
boil you an egg for your dinner and see how
that suits you. End of chapter ten read by Karri
Shallenberg on October sixteenth, two thousand eight, in San Diego, California,
Chapter ten of the Adventures of Sallie. This is a
LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain.
For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox dot org.
The Adventures of Sallie by P. G. Woodhouse. Chapter ten,
Sally in the Shadows One. It seemed to Sally, in
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the weeks that followed her reunion with Ginger Camp, that
a sort of golden age had set in on all
the frontiers of her little kingdom. There was peace and prosperity,
and she woke each morning in a world so neatly
smoothed and ironed out that the most captious pessimist could
hardly have found anything in it to criticize. True, Gerald
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was still a thousand miles away, going to Chicago to
superintend the opening of the Primrose Way, for Fillmore had
acceded to his friend Ike's suggestion in the manner of
producing it first in Chicago, and he had been called
in by a distracted manager to revise the work of
a brother dramatist whose comedy was in difficulties at one
(01:06):
of the theaters in that city, And this meant that
he would have to remain on the spot for some
time to come. It was disappointing for Sally had been
looking forward to having him back in New York for
a few days, but she refused to allow herself to
be depressed. Life as a whole was much too satisfactory
for that. Life, indeed, in every other respect, seemed perfect.
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Philmore was going strong, Ginger was off her conscience, she
had found an apartment, her new hat suited her, and
the Primrose Way was a tremendous success. Chicago, it appeared
from Fillmore's account, was paying little attention to anything except
the Primrose Way. National problems had ceased to interest the citizens.
(01:51):
Local problems left them cold. Their minds were riveted to
the exclusion of all else on the problem of how
to secure seats. The production of the piece, according to Fillmore,
had been the most terrific experience that had come to
stir Chicago since the Great Fire. Of all these satisfactory happenings,
(02:12):
the most satisfactory to Sally's thinking was the fact that
the problem of Ginger's future had been solved. Ginger had
entered the service of the Fillmore Nicholas Theatrical Enterprises Limited,
Managing Director. Fillmore Nicholas Fillmore would have made the title longer.
Only that was all that would go on the brass plate,
and was to be found daily in the outer office,
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his duties consisting mainly, it seemed, in reading the evening papers.
What exactly he was even Ginger hardly knew. Sometimes he
felt like the man at the wheel, sometimes like a
glorified office boy, and not so very glorified at that.
For the most part he had to prevent the mob
rushing and getting at Fillmore, who sat in semi regal
(02:58):
state in the inner office pondering great schemes. But though
there might be an occasional passing uncertainty in Ginger's mind
as to just what he was supposed to be doing
in exchange for the fifty dollars he drew every Friday,
there was nothing uncertain about his gratitude to Sallie for
having pulled the strings and enabled him to do it.
(03:19):
He tried to thank her every time they met, and
nowadays they were meeting frequently, for Ginger was helping her
to furnish her new apartment. In this task he spared
no efforts. He said that it kept him in condition.
And what I mean to say is, said Ginger, pausing
in the act of carrying a massive easy chair to
the third spot, which Sallie had selected in the last
(03:42):
ten minutes. If I didn't sweat about a bit and
help you after the way you got me that job,
Ginger desist, said Sallie. Yes, but honestly, if you don't
stop it, I'll make you move that chair into the
next room, shall i? Ginger rubbed his blistered hands and
(04:03):
took a new grip. Anything you say, silly, of course not.
The only other rooms are my bedroom, the bathroom and
the kitchen. What on earth would I want a great
lumbering chair in them? For all the same I believe
the first we chose was the best. Back She goes
Then what, Sallie reflected frowningly. This business of setting up
(04:25):
house was causing her much thought. No, she decided, by
the window is better. She looked at him remorsefully. I'm
giving you a lot of trouble. Trouble, Ginger, accompanied by
a chair, staggered across the room. The way I look
at it is this, he wiped a bead of perspiration
(04:48):
from his freckled forehead. You got me that job, and
stop right ho Still you did you know? Sallie sat
down in the arm chair and st watching ginger work
had given her a vicarious fatigue. She surveyed the room proudly.
It was certainly beginning to look cozy. The pictures were up,
(05:10):
the carpet down, the furniture very neatly in order. For
almost the first time in her life, she had the
RESTful sensation of being at home. She had always longed
during the past three years of boarding house existence, for
a settled abode, a place where she could lock the
door on herself and be alone. The apartment was small,
(05:33):
but it was undeniably a haven. She looked about her
and could see no flaw in it, except she had
a sudden sense of something missing. Hullo, she said, where's
that photograph of me? I'm sure I put it on
the mantelpiece yesterday. His exertions seemed to have brought the
blood to Ginger's face. He was a rich red. He
(05:56):
inspected the mantelpiece narrowly. No, no photograph here, I know
there isn't, but it was there yesterday, or was it?
I know I meant to put it there, Perhaps I forgot.
It's the most beautiful thing you ever saw, not a
bit like me? But what of that they touch em
up in the dark room. You know I value it
(06:16):
because it looks the way I should like to look
if I could. I've never had a beautiful photograph taken
of myself, said Ginger, solemnly, with gentle regret. Cheer up. Oh,
I don't mind, I only mentioned Ginger, said, Sallie, pardon
my interrupting your remarks, which I know are valuable. But
(06:37):
this chair is not right. It ought to be where
it was at the beginning. Could you give your imitation
of a pack mule just once more? And after that
I'll make you some tea if there's any tea, or
milk or cups. There are cups, all right, I know,
because I smashed too the day before yesterday. I'll nip
round the corner for some milk, shall I? Yes, please nip.
(07:01):
All This hard work has taken it out of me terribly.
Over the tea table, Sally became inquisitive. What I can't
understand about this job of yours, Ginger, which, as you
are just about to observe, I was noble enough to
secure for you, is the amount of leisure that seems
to go with it. How is it that you are
able to spend your valuable time, Fillmore's valuable time, rather
(07:25):
jumbling with my furniture every day? Oh? I can usually
get off. But oughtn't you to be at your post
doing whatever it is you do? What do you do?
Ginger stirred his teeth thoughtfully and gave his mind to
the question. While I sort of mess about, you know,
(07:46):
he pondered, I interview divers blighters and tell em your
brother is out, and take their names and addresses, and oh,
all that sort of thing. Does Fillmore consult you much?
He lets me read some of the plays that are
sent in awful taush most of them. Sometimes he sends
me off to a vaudeville house of an evening as
(08:08):
a treat to see some special act, you know, to
report on it in case he might want to use
it for this review of his. Which review? Didn't you
know he was going to put on a review, Oh,
rather a whacking big affair, going to cut out the
follies and all that sort of thing. But my goodness,
(08:30):
Sallie was alarmed. It was just like Fillmore, she felt,
to go branching out into these expensive schemes. When he
ought to be moving warily and trying to consolidate the
small success he had had all his life. He had
thought in millions, where the prudent man would have been
content with hundreds, an inexhaustible fount of optimism bubbled eternally
(08:53):
within him. That's rather ambitious, she said, Yes, ambitious sort
of cove your brother quite the Napoleon. I shall have
to talk to him, said Sallie decidedly. She was annoyed
with Fillmore. Everything had been going so beautifully, with everybody
peaceful and happy and prosperous, and no anxiety anywhere, till
(09:17):
he had spoiled things. Now she would have to start
worrying again. Of course, argued Ginger. There's money in reviews
over in London. Fellows make pots out of them. Sallie
shook her head. It won't do, she said, And I'll
tell you another thing that won't do. This arm chair.
Of course, it ought to be over by the window.
(09:39):
You can see that yourself, can't you, absolutely, said Ginger, patiently,
preparing for action once more. Two Sallie's anxiety with regard
to her ebulliant brother was not lessened by the receipt.
Shortly afterwards, of a telegram from Miss Winch in Chicago.
(10:03):
Have you been feeding Fillmore meat? The telegram ran, and
while Sallie could not have claimed that she completely understood it,
there was a sinister suggestion about the message which decided
her to wait no longer before making investigations. She tore
herself away from the joys of furnishing and went round
to the headquarters of the Fillmore Nicholas Theatrical Enterprises Limited,
(10:26):
Managing Director Fillmore Nicholas without delay ginger, she discovered on
arrival was absent from his customary post, his place in
the outer office being taken by a lad of tender
years and pimply exterior, who thawed and cast off a
proud reserve on hearing Sallie's name, and told her to
walk right in. Sallie walked right in and found Philmore
(10:50):
with his feet on an untidy desk, studying what appeared
to be costume designs Ah, Sallie, he said, in the
distrait tired voice which speaks of vast preoccupations. Prosperity was
still putting in its silent, deadly work on the hope
of the American theater. What even at as late an epoch.
(11:12):
As the return from Detroit had been merely a smooth
fullness around the angle of the jaw was now frankly
and without disguise, a double chin. He was wearing a
new waistcoat and it was unbuttoned. I am rather busy,
he went on, always glad to see you, but I
am rather busy. I have a hundred things to attend to. Well,
(11:34):
attend to me, that'll only make a hundred and one,
Phil what's all this I hear about? A review? Philmore
looked as like a small boy caught in the act
of stealing jam as it is possible for a great
theatrical manager to look. He had been wondering in his
darker moments what Sally would say about that project when
(11:56):
she heard of it, and he had hoped she would
not hear of it until all the preparations were so
complete that interference would be impossible. He was extremely fond
of Sally, but there was he knew, a lamentable vein
of caution in her make up, which might lead her
to criticize. And how can your man of affairs carry
on if women are buzzing round criticizing all the time.
(12:20):
He picked up a pen and put it down, buttoned
his waistcoat and unbuttoned it, and scratched his ear with
one of the costume designs. Oh yes, the review it's
no good saying, oh yes, you know perfectly well, it's
a crazy idea. Really, these business matters, this interference. I
(12:41):
don't want to run your affairs for you, Phil, but
that money of mine does make me a sort of partner,
I suppose, and I think I have a right to
raise a loud yell of agony when I see you
risking it on a pardon me, said Philmore, loftily, looking happier.
Let me explain, women, never understand business men. Your money
(13:01):
is tied up exclusively in the Primrose way, which, as
you know, is a tremendous success. You have nothing whatever
to worry about as regards any new production I may make.
I'm not worrying about the money. I'm worrying about you.
A tolerant smile played about the lower slopes of Fillmore's face.
(13:23):
Don't be alarmed about me, I'm all right. You aren't
all right. You've no business when you've only just got
started as a manager to be rushing into an enormous
production like this. You can't afford it, my dear child.
As I said before, women cannot understand these things. A
man in my position can always command money for a
(13:44):
new venture. Do you mean to say you have found
somebody silly enough to put up money? Certainly, I don't
know that there is any secret about it. Your friend,
mister Carmle, has taken an interest in some of my
forthcoming productions. What Sallie had been disturbed before, but she
was aghast now this was something she had never anticipated.
(14:09):
Bruce Carmile seemed to be creeping into her life like
an advancing tide. There appeared to be no eluding him.
Wherever she turned, there he was, and she could do
nothing but rage impotently. The situation was becoming impossible. Fillmore
misinterpreted the note of dismay in her voice. It's quite
(14:30):
all right, he assured her. He's a very rich man,
large private means besides his big income. Even if anything
goes wrong, it isn't that. It's the hopelessness of explaining
to Fillmore stopped Sallie. And while she was chafing at
this new complication, which had come to upset the orderly
(14:50):
routine of her life, there was an outburst of voices
in the other office. Ginger's understudies seemed to be endeavoring
to convince somebody that the Big Chief was engaged and
not to be intruded upon. In this he was unsuccessful,
for the door opened tempestuously, and Miss Winch sailed in, Philmore,
(15:11):
you poor nut, said miss Winch. For though she might
wrap up her meaning somewhat obscurely in her telegraphic communications,
when it came to the spoken word, she was directness itself.
Stop picking straws in your hair and listen to me,
you're dippy. The last time Sallie had seen Philmore's fiancee,
(15:32):
she had been impressed by her imperturbable calm. Miss Winch
in Detroit had seemed a girl whom nothing could ruffle.
That she had lapsed now from this serene placidity struck
Sallie as ominous. Slightly, though she knew her, she felt
that it could be no ordinary happening that had so
animated her sister in law to be Ah, here you are,
(15:54):
said Phillmore. He had started to his feet indignantly at
the opening of the door, like a lion bearded in
its den. But calm had returned when he saw who
the intruder was. Yes, here I am, Miss Winch dropped
despairingly into a swivel chair and endeavored to restore herself
with a stick of chewing gum. Pillmore, Darling, you are
(16:17):
the sweetest thing on earth and I love you. But
on present form you could just walk straight into Bloomingdale
and they'd give you the royal suite. My dear girl,
what do you think? Demanded Miss Winch, turning to Sallie.
I've just been telling him, said Sallie, welcoming this ally.
I think it's absurd at this stage of things for
(16:38):
him to put on an enormous review review. Miss Winch
stopped in the act of gnawing her gum. What review?
She flung up her arms. I shall have to swallow
this gum, she said. You can't chew with your head
going round. Are you putting on a review too? Fillmore
(16:59):
was buttoning and unbuttoning his waistcoat. He had a hounded look. Certainly, certainly,
he replied, in a tone of some feverishness. I wish
you girls would leave me to manage dippy, said Miss Wench.
Once more telegraphic address tea pot Matteawan. She swiveled round
(17:20):
to Sallie again. Say listen, this boy must be stopped.
We must form a gang in his best interests and
get him put away. What do you think he proposes doing.
I'll give you three guesses. Oh, what's the use you'd
never hit it. This poor wandering lad has got it
all fixed up to star me me in a new show.
(17:41):
Philmore removed a hand from his waistcoat buttons and waved
it protestingly. I have used my own judgment, yes, sir,
proceeded Miss Winch, riding over the interruption. That's what he's
planning to spring on an unsuspicious public. I'm sitting peacefully
in my room at the hotel in Chicago, pronging a
few cents worth of scrambled eggs and reading the morning paper.
(18:03):
When the telephone rings. Gentlemen below would like to see me. Oh,
ask him to wait. Business of flinging on a few
clothes down in elevator, bright sunrise effects in lobby? What
on earth do you mean? The gentleman had a head
of red hair which had to be seen to be believed,
explained Miss Winch lit up. The lobby management had switched
(18:26):
off all the electrics for sake of economy. An englishman,
he was nice fellow named Kemp, oh is ginger in Chicago,
said Sallie. I wondered why he wasn't on his little
chair in the outer office. I sent Kemp to Chicago,
said Fillmore, to have a look at the show. It
is my policy if I am unable to pay periodical
(18:47):
visits myself, to send a representative. Save it up for
the long winter evenings, advised Miss Winch, cutting in on
this statement of managerial tactics. Mister Kemp may have been
there to look at the show, but his chief reason
for coming was to tell me to beat it back
to New York to enter into my kingdom. Fillmore wanted
(19:09):
me on the spot. He told me so that I
could sit around in this office here interviewing my supporting company. Me.
Can you or can you not? Inquired Miss Winch. Frankly
tie it well, Sally hesitated. Don't say it. I know
it just as well as you do. It's too sad
(19:29):
for words. You persist in underestimating your abilities, Gladys, said Fillmore. Reproachfully,
I have had a certain amount of experience in theatrical matters.
I have seen a good deal of acting, and I
assure you that as a character actress, you, miss winch
Rose swiftly from her seat, kissed Fillmore energetically, and sat
(19:50):
down again. She produced another stick of chewing gum, then
shook her head and replaced it in her bag. You're
a darling old thing to talk like that, she said.
And I hate to wake you out of your day dreams,
but honestly, Philmore, dear, do just step out of the
padded cell for one moment and listen to reason. I
know exactly what has been passing in your poor disordered bean.
(20:13):
You took Elsa Doland out of a minor part and
made her a star. Over night, she goes to Chicago,
and the critics and everybody else rave about her. As
a matter of fact, she said to Sally, with enthusiasm
for hers was an honest and generous nature. You can't realize,
not having seen her play there, what an amazing hit
(20:34):
she has made. She really is a sensation. Everybody says
she's going to be the biggest thing on record. Very well,
then what does Philmore do? The poor fish claps his
hand to his forehead and cries gadzooks an idea. I've
done it before, I'll do it again. I'm the fellow
who can make a star out of anything, and he
picks on me, my dear girl. Now, the flaw in
(20:58):
the scheme is this Elsa is a genius, and if
he hadn't made her a star, somebody else would have done.
But little Gladys, that's something else again. She turned to Sallie.
You've seen me in action, and let me tell you,
you've seen me at my best. Give me a maid's
part with a tray to carry on in Act one,
and a couple of yes madams in Act two, and
(21:19):
I'm there. Ellen Terry hasn't anything on me when it
comes to saying yes madam. And I'm willing to back
myself for gold notes or Lima beans against Sarah Bernhardt
as a tray carrier. But there I finish. That lets
me out, and anybody who thinks otherwise is going to
lose a lot of money between ourselves. The only thing
I can do really well is to cook, my dear Gladys, cried,
(21:43):
fillmore revolted. I'm a heaven born cook, and I don't
mind notifying the world to that effect. I can cook
a chicken casserole so that you would leave home and
mother for it. Also my English pork pies. One of
these days I'll take an afternoon off and assemble one
for you. You'd be so prized. But acting no, I
can't do it, and I don't want to do it.
(22:04):
I only went on the stage for fun, and my
idea of fun isn't to plow through a star part
with all the critics waving their axes in the front row,
and me knowing all the time that it's taking money
out of Fillmore's bank roll that ought to be going
towards buying the little home with stationary wash tubs. Well
that's that, Phillmore, old darling, I thought i'd just mention it.
(22:25):
Sallie could not help being sorry for Fillmore. He was
sitting with his chin on his hands, staring moodily before
him Napoleon at Elba. It was plain that this project
of taking miss Winch by the scruff of the neck
and hurling her to the heights had been very near
his heart. If that's how you feel, he said, in
(22:45):
a stricken voice, There is nothing more to say. Oh,
yes there is. We will now talk about this review
of yours. It's off. Fillmore bounded to his feet. He
thumped the desk with a well nourished fist. A man
can stand just so much. It is not off, great Heavens,
(23:05):
it's too much. I will not put up with this
interference with my business concerns. I will not be tied
and hampered here. I am a man of broad vision
and and broad vision. I form my plans, my plans,
I form them, I shape my schemes. And what happens?
A horde of girls flock into my private office while
(23:25):
I am endeavoring to concentrate and concentrate. I won't stand it. Advice, yes,
interference no, I I I and kindly remember that. The
door closed with a bang. A fainter detonation announced the
whirlwind passage through the outer office. Footsteps died away down
the corridor. Sallie looked at Miss Winch, stunned. A roused
(23:51):
and militant Fillmore was new to her. Miss Winch took
out the stick of chewing gum again and unwrapped it.
Isn't he cute? She said? I hope he doesn't get
the soft kind, she murmured, chewing reflectively. The soft kind
He'll be back soon with a box of candy, explained
Miss Winch. And he will get that sloshy, creamy sort,
(24:13):
though I keep telling him I like the other. Well,
one thing's certain. Philmore's got it up his nose. He's
beginning to hop about and sing in the sunlight. It's
going to be hard work to get that boy down
to earth again. Miss Winch heaved a gentle sigh. I
should like him to have enough left in the old
stocking to pay the first year's rent. When the wedding
(24:34):
bells rang out, she bit meditatively on her chewing gum
not She said that it matters. I'd be just as
happy in two rooms and a kitchenette so long as
Fillmore was there. You've no notion how dippy I am
about him. Her freckled face glowed. He grows on me
like a darned drug. And the funny thing is that
(24:54):
I keep right on admiring him, though I can see
all the while that he's the most perfect chump. He
is a chump, you know. That's what I love about him.
That and the way his ears wiggle when he gets excited.
Chumps always make the best husbands. When you marry Sallie,
grab it, chump, tap his forehead first, and if it
rings solid, don't hesitate. All the unhappy marriages come from
(25:16):
the husband having brains. What good are brains to a man?
They only unsettle him. She broke off and scrutinized Sallie closely.
Say what do you do with your skin? She spoke
with solemn earnestness, which made Sallie laugh. What do I
do with my skin? I just carry it around with me,
(25:40):
well said miss Winch. Enviously, I wish I could train
my darned fool of a complexion to get that way.
Freckles are the devil. When I was eight, I had
the finest collection in the Middle West, and I've been
adding to it right along. Some folks say, lemon juice'll
cure em mine, lap up all I give em an
ask for more. There's only one way of getting rid
of freckles, and that is to saw the head off
(26:01):
at the neck. But why do you want to get
rid of them? Why Because a sensitive girl, anxious to
retain her future husband's love doesn't enjoy going about looking
like something out of a dime museum. How absurd pillmore
worships freckles. Did he tell you so, asked Miss Wench eagerly.
(26:24):
Not in so many words, but you can see it
in his eye. Well, he certainly asked me to marry him,
knowing all about them. I will say that. And what's more,
I don't think feminine loveliness means much to Fillmore, or
he'd never have picked on me. Still, it is calculated
to give a girl a jar, you must admit when
she picks up a magazine and reads an advertisement of
(26:44):
a face cream beginning, your husband is growing cold to you?
Can you blame him? Have you really tried to cure
those unsightly blemishes meaning what I've got? Still I haven't
noticed Fillmore growing cold to me, so maybe it's all right.
It was a subdued Sallie who received Ginger when he
called at her apartment a few days later on his
(27:06):
return from Chicago. It seemed to her, thinking over the
recent scene, that matters were even worse than she had feared.
This absurd review, which she had looked on as a
mere isolated outbreak of foolishness, was it would appear only
a specimen of the sort of thing her misguided brother
proposed to do. A sample selected at random from a
(27:28):
wholesale lot of frantic schemes. Phillmore, there was no longer
any room for doubt was preparing to express his great
soul on a vast scale, and she could not dissuade him.
A humiliating thought. She had grown so accustomed through the
years to being the dominating mind that this revolt from
her authority made her feel helpless and inadequate. Her self
(27:51):
confidence was shaken, and Bruce Carmyle was financing him. It
was illogical, but Sally could not help feeling that, when
she had not the optimism to say if he lost
his money, she would somehow be under an obligation to him,
as if the disaster had been her fault. She disliked
(28:11):
with a wholehearted intensity the thought of being under an
obligation to mister Carlyle. Ginger said he had looked in
to inspect the furniture on the chance that Sallie might
want it shifted again, but Sallie had no criticisms to
make on that subject. Weightier matters occupied her mind. She
sat Ginger down in the arm chair and started to
(28:32):
pour out her troubles. It soothed her to talk to
him in a world which had somehow become chaotic again
after an all too brief period of peace. He was
solid and consoling. I shouldn't worry, observed Ginger, with winch
like calm. When she had finished drawing for him the
picture of a Phillmore rampant against a background of expensive reviews,
(28:57):
Sallie nearly shook him. It it's all very well to
tell me not to worry, she cried, How can I
help worrying? Fillmore is simply a baby, and he's just
playing the fool. He has lost his head completely and
I can't stop him. That is the awful part of it.
I used to be able to look him in the
eye and he would wag his tail and crawl back
into his basket. But now I seem to have no
(29:18):
influence at all over him. He just snorts and goes
on running round in circles, breathing fire. Ginger did not
abandon his attempts to indicate the silver lining. I think
you are making too much of all this, you know.
I mean to say, it's quite likely he's found some mug.
What I mean is it's just possible that your brother
(29:38):
isn't standing the entire racket himself. Perhaps some rich Johnny
has breezed along with a pot of money. It often
happens like that. You know, you read in the paper
that some manager or other is putting on some show
or other, when really the chap who's actually supplying the
pieces of eight is some anonymous lad in the background.
That is just what has happened, and it ma makes
(30:00):
it worse than ever. Fillmore tells me that your cousin,
mister Carlyle, is providing the money. This did interest Ginger.
He sat up with a jerk. Oh I say, he exclaimed, Yes,
said Sallie, still agitated but pleased that she had at
last shaken him out of his trying attitude of detachment.
(30:23):
Ginger was scowling. That's a bit off, he observed. I
think so too. I don't like that, nor do I
do you know what I think? Said Ginger, Ever, a
man of plain speech and a reckless plunger into delicate subjects.
The Biter's in love with you, Sallie flushed. After examining
(30:48):
the evidence before her, She had reached the same conclusion
in the privacy of her thoughts, but it embarrassed her
to hear the thing put into bald words. I know Bruce,
continued ginger, and believe me, he isn't the sort of
cove to take any kind of flutter without a jolly
good motive. Of course, he's got tons of money. His
(31:08):
old governor was the Carmle of Carmle, Brent and Company,
coal mine's up in Wales and all that sort of thing.
And I suppose he must have left Bruce something like
half a million. No need for the fellow to have
worked at all if he hadn't wanted to. As far
as having the stuff goes, he's in a position to
back all the shows he wants to. But the point
is it's right out of his line. He doesn't do
(31:29):
that sort of thing, not a drop of sporting blood
in the chap. Why I've known him stick the whole
family on to me just because it got noised about
that I'd dropped a couple of quid on the Grand National.
If he's really brought himself to the point of shelling
out on a risky proposition like a show, it means something,
take my word for it, and I don't see what
(31:50):
else it can mean, except well, I mean to say,
is it likely that he's doing it simply to make
your brother look on him as a good egg and
a pal and all that sort of thing. No, it's
not agreed, Sallie. But don't let's talk about it any more.
Tell me all about your trip to Chicago. All right,
But returning to this binge for a moment. I don't
(32:12):
see how it matters to you one way or the other.
You're engaged to another fellow, and when Bruce rolls up
and says what about it? You've simply to tell him
that the shot isn't on the board, and will he
kindly melt away? Then you hand him his hat and
out he goes. Sallie gave a troubled laugh. You think
that's simple, do you? I suppose you imagine that a
(32:33):
girl enjoys that sort of thing. Oh, what's the use
of talking about it? It's horrible and no amount of
arguing will make it anything else. Do let's change the subject.
How did you like Chicago? Oh? All right? Rather a
grubby sort of place, so I've always heard. But you
ought not to mind that being a Londoner. Oh I
(32:55):
didn't mind it. As a matter of fact. I had
rather a good time. Saw one or two shows you know,
got in on my face as your brother's representative, which
was all to the good. By the way, it's rummy
how you run into people when you move about, isn't it?
You talk as if you had been dashing about the
streets with your eyes shut. Did you meet somebody you knew?
(33:15):
Chap I hadn't seen for years? Was at school with him,
as a matter of fact, fellow named Foster. But I
expect you know him too, don't you by name? At
any rate? He wrote your brother's show. Sallie's heart jumped.
Oh did you meet Gerald Foster? Ran into him one
night at the theater? And you were really at school
(33:37):
with him? Yes? He was in the footer team with
me my last year. Was he a scrum half too,
asked Sallie dimpling. Ginger looked shocked. You don't have two
scrum halves in a team, he said, pained at this
ignorance on a vital matter. The scrum half is the
half who works the scrum. And yes, you told me
(34:01):
that at Roville. What was Gerald, mister Foster then a
six and seven eighths or something? He was a wing three,
said Ginger, with a gravity befitting his theme rather fast
with a fairly decent swerve, but he would not learn
to give the reverse pass inside to the center. Ghastly,
(34:21):
said Sallie. If, said Ginger earnestly, a wing's bottled up
by his wing and the back. The only thing he
can do if he doesn't want to be bundled into
touch is to give the reverse pass. I know, said Sallie.
If I've thought that once, I've thought it a hundred times.
How nice it must have been for you meeting again.
(34:43):
I suppose you had all sorts of things to talk about.
Ginger shook his head. Not such a frightful lot. We
were never very thick, you see this chap Foster was
by way of being a bit of a worm. What
a tick? Explained Ginger. A rotter. He was pretty generally
barred at school. Personally, I never had any use for
(35:05):
him at all. Sallie stiffened. She had liked Ginger up
to that moment, and later on no doubt she would
resume her liking for him, But in the immediate moment
which followed these words, she found herself regarding him with
stormy hostility. How dare he sit there saying things like
that about Gerald? Ginger, who was lighting a cigarette without
(35:28):
a care in the world, proceeded to develop his theme.
It's a rummy thing about school. Generally, if a fellow's
good at games in the cricket team or the footer
team and so forth, he can hardly help being fairly popular.
But this blighter Foster, somehow nobody seemed very keen on him.
Of course, he had a few of his own pals,
(35:49):
but most of the chaps rather gave him a miss.
It may have been because he was a bit sidy,
had rather an edge on him, you know. Personally. The
reason an eye barred him was because he wasn't straight.
You didn't notice it if you weren't thrown a goodish
bit with him, of course. But he and I were
in the same house, and Sallie managed to control her voice,
(36:12):
though it shook a little. I ought to tell you,
she said, and her tone would have warned him had
he been less occupied, that mister Foster is a great
friend of mine. But Ginger was intent on the lighting
of his cigarette, a delicate operation. With the breeze blowing
in through the open window. His head was bent and
(36:33):
he had formed his hands into a protective framework which
half hid his face. If you take my tip, he mumbled,
you'll drop him. He's a wrong un He spoke with
the absent minded drawl of preoccupation, and Sallie could keep
the conflagration under no longer. She was a flame from
head to foot. It may interest you to know, she said,
(36:57):
shooting the words out like bullets from between clenched teeth,
that Gerald Foster is the man I am engaged to marry.
Ginger's head came slowly up from his cupped hands. Amazement
was in his eyes, and a sort of horror. The
cigarette hung limply from his mouth. He did not speak,
(37:17):
but sat looking at her dazed. Then the match burnt
his fingers, and he dropped it with a start. The
sharp sting of it seemed to wake him. He blinked.
You're joking, he said, feebly. There was a note of
wistfulness in his voice. It isn't true. Sallie kicked the
leg of her chair irritably. She read insolent disapproval into
(37:40):
the words he was daring to criticize. Of course, it's true,
But a look of hopeless misery came into Ginger's pleasant face.
He hesitated, then, with the air of a man bracing
himself to a dreadful but unavoidable ordeal. He went on.
He spoke gruffly, and his eyes, which had been fixed
(38:03):
on Sallie's, wandered down to the match on the carpet.
It was still glowing, and mechanically he put a foot
on it. Foster's married, he said shortly. He was married
the day before I left Chicago. Three. It seemed to
(38:23):
Ginger that in the silence which followed, brooding over the
room like a living presence, even the noises in the
street had ceased, as though what he had said had
been a spell, cutting Sallie and himself off from the
outer world. Only the little clock on the mantelpiece ticked, ticked, ticked,
like a heart beating fast. He stared straight before him,
(38:48):
conscious of a strange rigidity. He felt incapable of movement,
as he had sometimes felt in nightmares. And not for
all the wealth of America could he have raised his
eyes just then to Sallie's face. He could see her hands.
They had tightened on the arm of the chair. The
knuckles were white. He was blaming himself bitterly now for
(39:09):
his oafish clumsiness in blurting out the news so abruptly
and yet curiously. In his remorse, there was something of elation.
Never before had he felt so near to her. It
was as though a barrier that had been between them
had fallen. Something moved. It was Sally's hand, slowly relaxing.
(39:30):
The fingers loosened, their grip tightened again, Then, as if
reluctantly relaxed once more, the blood flowed back. Your cigarettes out,
Ginger started violently. Her voice, coming suddenly out of the silence,
had struck him like a blow. Oh thanks. He forced
(39:50):
himself to light another match. It sputtered noisily in the stillness.
He blew it out, and the uncanny quiet fell again.
Ginger drew at his cigarette mechanically. For an instant he
had seen Sallie's face, white cheeked and bright eyed, the
chin tilted like a flag flying over a stricken field.
(40:13):
His mood changed. All his emotions had crystallized into a dull,
futile rage, a helpless fury directed at a man a
thousand miles away. Sallie spoke again. Her voice sounded small
and far off, an odd flatness in it married. Ginger
(40:34):
threw his cigarette out of the window. He was shocked
to find that he was smoking. Nothing could have been
farther from his intention than to smoke. He nodded, whom
has he married? Ginger coughed, Something was sticking in his throat,
and speech was difficult. A girl called Doland. Oh else, Doland,
(40:59):
Yes else, Doland. Sallie drummed with her fingers on the
arm of the chair. Oh else, Doland. There was silence again.
The little clock ticked fussily on the mantelpiece. Out in
the street, automobile horns were blowing. From somewhere in the distance.
Came faintly the rumble of an elevated train. Familiar sounds,
(41:23):
but they came to Sallie now with a curious, unreal
sense of novelty. She felt as though she had been
projected into another world where everything was new and strange
and horrible, everything except Ginger. About him, in the mere
sight of him, there was something known and hardening. Suddenly
(41:44):
she became aware that she was feeling that Ginger was
behaving extremely well. She seemed to have been taken out
of herself, and to be regarding the scene from outside,
regarding it coolly and critically, And it was plain to
her that Ginger, in this upheaval of all things, was
bearing himself perfectly. He had attempted no banal words of sympathy.
(42:05):
He had said nothing, and he was not looking at her,
and Sallie felt that sympathy just now would be torture,
and that she could not have borne to be looked at.
Ginger was wonderful in that curious, detached spirit that had
come upon her. She examined him impartially, and gratitude welled
up from the very depths of her. There he sat,
(42:28):
saying nothing and doing nothing, as if he knew that
all she needed. The only thing that could keep her
sane in this world of nightmare was the sight of
that dear, flaming head of his, that made her feel
that the world had not slipped away from her altogether.
Ginger did not move. The room had grown almost dark now,
(42:49):
A spear of light from a street lamp shone in
through the window. Sallie got up abruptly, slowly, gradually, inch
by inch, the great suffer vocating cloud which had been
crushing her had lifted. She felt alive again. Her black
hour had gone, and she was back in the world
of living things. Once more. She was afire, with a fierce,
(43:12):
tearing pain that tormented her almost beyond endurance. But dimly
she sensed the fact that she had passed through something
that was worse than pain, and with Ginger's stolid presence
to aid her, had passed triumphantly. Go and have dinner, Ginger,
she said, you must be starving. Ginger came to life
(43:34):
like a courtier in the palace of the sleeping Beauty.
He shook himself and rose stiffly from his chair. Oh no,
he said, not a bit really. Sallie switched on the
light and set him blinking. She could bear to be
looked at. Now, go and dine, she said, dine lavishly
(43:54):
and luxuriously. You've certainly earned Her voice faltered for a moment.
She held out her hand Ginger, She said, shakily, I Ginger,
you're a pal. When he had gone, Sallie sat down
and began to cry. Then she dried her eyes in
(44:15):
a business like manner. There, miss Nicholas, she said, you
couldn't have done that an hour ago. We will now
boil you an egg for your dinner and see how
that suits you. End of chapter ten read by Karri
Shallenberg on October sixteenth, two thousand eight, in San Diego, California,
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