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Joan Thursday

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<h2>XXII</h2> As she drew near to Longacre Square, Joan saw Quard detach himself from an area-railing against which he had been lounging across the street, and move over to intercept her. Since she had anticipated that he might waylay her in some such manner, if he didn't call at the house, she was not surprised by this man&oelig;uvre; but she was a little surprised and not a little amused (if quite privately) to see him throw away his cigar as they drew together, and lift his hat. Such attentions from him were distinctly novel—and gratifying. Complacent, and at the same time excited beneath a placid demeanour, she greeted him with a cool little nod. He grinned broadly but nervously. "I was wondering if you wouldn't happen along soon...." "Is that so?" Joan returned blandly. "Mind my walking with you?" "No-o," the girl drawled. "Of course, if I'm in the way—" "Oh, no—I'm just looking for some place to lunch." "Well, I'm hungry myself. Why not let me set up the eats?" "All right," she assented indifferently. "Fine! Where'll we go?" "Oh, I don't know...." "Anywheres you say." "Well, Rector's is right handy." "That suits me," Quard affirmed promptly. But Joan's sidelong glance discovered a look of some discomfiture. "I guess you got my letter, all right?" he pursued as they crossed to the sidewalk of the New York Theatre Building. "Oh, yes," Joan replied evenly, after a brief pause. "Wha'd you think of the piece?" "Oh ... the sketch! Why, it seems very interesting. Of course," Joan added in a tone of depreciation, "I didn't have much time—just glanced through it, you know—" "I felt pretty sure you'd like it!" "Oh, yes; I thought it quite interesting," said the girl patronizingly. She seemed unconscious of his quick, questioning glance, and Quard withdrew temporarily into suspicious, baffled silence. In the pause they crossed Forty-fourth Street and entered the restaurant. It was rather crowded at that hour, but by good chance they found a table for two by one of the windows; where a heavily-mannered captain of waiters, probably thinking he recognized her, held a chair for Joan and bowed her into it with an empressement that secretly delighted the girl and lent the last effect to Quard's discomfiture. "Please," she said gravely as the actor, with the captain suave but vigilant at his elbow, knitted expressive eyebrows over the menu—"please order something very simple. I hardly ever have much appetite so soon after breakfast." "I—ah—how about a cocktail?" Quard ventured, relief manifest in his smoothened brow. "I thought you—" "Oh, for you, I mean. Mine's ice'-tea." "I think," said Joan easily, "I would like a Bronx." And then, while Quard was distracted by the importance of his order, she removed her gloves and, with her hands in her lap hidden beneath the table, slipped off the ring and put it away in her wrist-bag: looking about the room the while with a boldness which she could by no means have mustered a month earlier, in such surroundings. Distrustful of her cocktail, when served, for all her impudence in naming it, she merely sipped a little and let it stand. The mystery of the change in her worked a trace of exasperation into Quard's humour. He eyed her narrowly, with misgivings. "I guess you ain't lost much sleep since we blew up," he hazarded abruptly. "Whatever do you mean?" drawled Joan. "You look and act's if you'd come into money since I saw you last." "Perhaps I have," she said with provoking reserve. "Meaning—mind my own business," he inferred morosely. "Well, now, what do you think?" "I—well, I'd be sorry to think what some folks might," he blundered. Joan's eyes flashed ominously. "Suppose you quit worrying about me; I guess I can take care of myself." "I guess you can," he admitted heavily. "Excuse me." "That's all right—and so'm I." Joan relented a little; lied: "I have come into some money—not much." Her gaze was as clear and straightforward as though her mouth had been the only authentic well-spring of veracity. "Let it go at that." "That's right, too." His face cleared, lightened. "Le's get down to brass tacks: how about that sketch?" "Didn't I say it seemed very interesting?" He nodded with impatience. "But you ain't said how my proposition strikes you. That's what I want to know." "You haven't made me any proposition." "Go on! Didn't you read my note?" "Sure I did; but you only said you wanted me for the woman's part." "Ain't that enough?" She shook her head with a pitying smile. "You got to talk regular business to me. I ain't as easy as I was once; I know the game better, and I don't need a job so bad. How much will you pay?" He hesitated: named reluctantly a figure higher than that which he had had in mind: "Thirty-five dollars...." "Nothing doing," said Joan promptly. "But look here: you're only a beginner—" "It's lovely weather we're having, for September, isn't it?" "I'd offer you more if I could afford it, but—" "Have you heard anything from Maizie since she left town?" "Damn Maizie! How much do you want, anyhow?" "Fifty—and transportation on the road." He checked; whistled guardedly and incredulously; changed his manner, bending confidentially across the table: "Listen, girlie, yunno I'd do anything in the world for you—" "Fifty and transportation!" "But I had to pay the guy what wrote this piece fifty for a month's option. If I take it up I gotta slip him a hundred more and twenty-five a week royalty as long's we play it: and there's three others in the cast, outsida you and me. David'll want fifty at least, and the Thief thirty-five and the servant twenty-five: there's a hundred and thirty-five already, including royalty. Add fifteen for tips and all that: a hundred and fifty; fifty to you, two-hundred. The best I can hope to drag down is three, and Boskerk'll want ten per cent commission for booking us, leaving only seventy for my bit—and I'm risking all I got salted away to try it out." He paused with an air of appeal to which Joan was utterly cold. "It's a woman's piece," she said tersely; "if you get a sure-'nough actress to play it, she'll want a hundred at least, if she's any good at all. You're saving fifty if you get me at my price." This was so indisputably true that Quard was staggered and temporarily silenced. "And," Joan drove her argument shrewdly home with unblushing mendacity—"Tom Wilbrow says it's only a question of time before I can get any figure I want to ask, in reason." Quard's eyes started. "Tom Wilbrow!" he gasped. "He rehearsed me in 'The Jade God' before Rideout went broke. I guess you heard about that." The actor nodded moodily. "But I didn't know you was in the cast.... Look here: make it—" "Fifty or nothing." After another moment of hesitation, Quard gave in with a surly "All right." At once, to hide his resentment, he attacked with more force than elegance the food before him. Joan permitted herself a furtive and superior smile. The success of her tactics proved wonderfully exhilarating, even more so than the prospect of receiving fifty dollars a week; she would have accepted fifteen rather than lose the opportunity. She had demonstrated clearly and to her own complete satisfaction her ability to manage men, to bend them to her will.... There was ironic fatality in the accident which checked this tide of gratulate reflection. From some point in the restaurant behind Joan's back, three men who had finished their lunch rose and filed toward the Broadway entrance. Passing the girl, one of these looked back curiously, paused, turned, and retraced his steps as far as her table. His voice of spirited suavity startled her from a waking dream of power tempered by policy, ambitions achieved through adulation of men.... "Why, Miss Thursday, how do you do?" Flashing to his face eyes of astonishment, Joan half started from her chair, automatically thrust out a hand of welcome, gasped: "Mr. Marbridge!" Quard looked up with a scowl. Marbridge ignored him, having in a glance measured the man and relegated him to a negligible status. He had Joan's hand and the knowledge, easily to be inferred from her alarm and hesitation, that she remembered and understood the scene of last Sunday, and was at once flattered and frightened by that memory. His handsome eyes ogled her effectively. "Please don't rise. I just caught sight of you and couldn't resist stopping to speak. How are you?" "I"—Joan stammered—"I'm very well, thanks." "As if one look at you wouldn't have told me you were as healthy as happy—more charming than both! You are—eh—not lonesome?" His intimate smile, the meaning flicker of his eyes toward Quard, exposed the innuendo. "Oh, no, I—" "Venetia was saying only yesterday we ought to look you up. She wants to call on you. Where do you put up in town?" Almost unwillingly the girl gave her address—knowing in her heart that the truth was not in this man. "And, I presume, you're ordinarily at home round four in the afternoon?" She nodded instinctively. "I'll not forget to tell Venetia. Two-eighty-nine west Forty-fifth, eh? Right-O! I must trot along. So glad to have run across you. Good afternoon...." Regaining control of her flustered thoughts, Joan found Quard eyeing her with odd intentness. "Friend of yours?" he demanded with a sneer and a backward jerk of his head. "Yes—the husband of a friend of mine," she replied quickly. The actor digested this information grimly. "Swell friends you've got, all right!" he commented, not without a touch of envy. "Now I begin to understand.... What's Marbridge going to do for you?" "Do for me? Mr. Marbridge? Why, nothing," she answered blankly, in a breath. "I don't know what you mean." "That's all right then. But take a friendly tip, and give him the office the minute he begins to talk about influencing managers to star you. I've heard about that guy, and he's a rotten proposition—grab it from me. He's Arlington's silent partner—and you know what kind of a rep. Arlington's got." "No, I don't," Joan challenged him sharply. "What's more, I don't care. Anyway, I don't see what Arlington's reputation's got to do with my being a friend of Marbridge's wife." "No more do I," grumbled Quard—"not if Marbridge believes you are." <hr style="width: 65%;" /> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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