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Page 31
I did not know quite what to make of Millard's cynicism. Was he
trying to be witty at Manton's expense? I noticed that he did not
smile himself. Although he was talking to us, his attention was
not really on us. He was still watching Enid.
"Then, along would happen Stella, as if by chance."
Millard paused bitterly, as though he did not quite relish the
telling it, but felt that Kennedy would pry it out of him or some
one else finally, and he might as well have it over with frankly.
"Yes," he said, thoughtfully, "but it all wasn't really Manton's
fault, after all. Stella liked the Bohemian sort of life too
much--and Manton does the Bohemian up here wonderfully. It was
too much for Stella. Then, when Phelps came along and was roped
in, she fell for him. It was good-by, poor Millard! I wasn't
rapid enough for that crowd."
I almost began to sympathize with Millard in the association into
which, for his living's sake, his art had forced him. I realized,
too, that really the banker, the wise one from Wall Street, was
the sucker.
Indeed, as Millard told it, I could easily account for the
temptation of Stella. To a degree, I suppose, it was really her
fault, for she ought to have known the game, shown more sense
than to be taken in by the thing. I wondered at the continued
relations of Millard with Manton, under the circumstances.
However, I reflected, if Stella had chosen to play the little
fool, why should Millard have allowed that to ruin his own
chances?
What interested me now was that Millard did not seem to relish
the attentions which the banker was paying to Enid. Was Manton
framing up the same sort of game again on Leigh?
However, when Enid shot a quick glance at Millard in an aside of
the conversation, accompanied by a merry wink, I saw that
Millard, though still doubtful, was much more at ease.
Evidently there was a tacit understanding between the two.
Kennedy glanced over at me. Bit by bit the checkered history of
Stella Lamar's life was coming to light.
I began to see more clearly. Deserting Millard and fascinated by
Manton and his game, she had been used to interest Phelps in the
company. In turn she had been dazzled by the glitter of the
Phelps gold. She had not proved loyal even to the producer and
promoter.
Perhaps, I reflected, that was why Millard was so apparently
complacent. One could not, under the circumstances, have expected
him to display wild emotion. His attitude had been that of one
who thought, "She almost broke me; let her break some one else."
That, however, was not his attitude toward Enid now. Indeed, he
seemed genuinely concerned that she should not follow in the same
steps.
Later, I learned that was not all of the history of Stella.
Fifteen hundred dollars a week of her own money, besides lavish
presents, had been too much for her. Even Phelps's money had had
no over-burdening attraction for her. The world--at least that
part of it which spends money on Broadway, had been open to her.
Jack Daring had charmed her for a while--hence the engagement. Of
Shirley, I did not even know. Perhaps the masterful crime roles
he played might have promised some new thrill, with the
possibility that they expressed something latent in his life. At
any rate, she had dilettanted about him, to the amazement and
dismay of Marilyn. That we knew.
The dinner hour was approaching, and, in spite of the urgent
invitation of Manton, Leigh was forced to excuse himself to keep
a previous appointment. I felt, though, that he would have broken
it if only Enid had added her urging. But she did not, much to
the relief of Millard. Manton took it in good part. Perhaps he
was wise enough to reflect that many other afternoons were in the
lap of the future.
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