"
"Well, how about that gentleman who was so anxious to help you once that
he could hardly restrain himself, Bloeckman?"
"Oh--!" He had hurt her at last, and he was not too obtuse or too
careless to perceive it.
"Why not him?" he insisted callously.
"Because--he doesn't like me any more," she said with difficulty, and
then as he did not answer but only regarded her cynically: "If you want
to know why, I'll tell you. A year ago I went to Bloeckman--he's changed
his name to Black--and asked him to put me into pictures."
"You went to Bloeckman?"
"Yes."
"Why didn't you tell me?" he demanded incredulously, the smile fading
from his face.
"Because you were probably off drinking somewhere. He had them give me a
test, and they decided that I wasn't young enough for anything except a
character part."
"A character part?"
"The 'woman of thirty' sort of thing. I wasn't thirty, and I didn't
think I--looked thirty."
"Why, damn him!" cried Anthony, championing her violently with a curious
perverseness of emotion, "why--"
"Well, that's why I can't go to him."
"Why, the insolence!" insisted Anthony nervously, "the insolence!"
"Anthony, that doesn't matter now; the thing is we've got to live over
Sunday and there's nothing in the house but a loaf of bread and a
half-pound of bacon and two eggs for breakfast.
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