The Complete Works of Stephen Crane by Stephen Crane Read Free Book Online Page B

her walk until he had stepped up to her. “Well, of all ungallant men, Rufus Coleman, you are the star,” she cried laughing and held out her hand.
    “Awfully sorry, I’m sure,” he murmured. “Been playing poker in the smoking room all voyage. Didn’t have a look at the passenger list until just now. Why didn’t you send me word?” These lies were told so modestly and sincerely that when the girl flashed her brilliant eyes full upon their author there was a mixture of admiration in the indignation.
    “Send you a card? I don’t believe you can read, Rufus, else you would have known I was to sail on this steamer. If I hadn’t been ill until to-day you would have seen me in the salon. I open at the Folly Theatre next week. Dear ol’ Lunnon, y’ know.”
    “Of course, I knew you were going,” said Coleman. “But I thought you were to go later. What do you open in?”
    “Fly by Night. Come walk along with me. See those two old ladies? They’ve been watching for me like hawks ever since we left New York. They expected me to flirt with every man on board. But I’ve fooled them. I’ve been just as g-o-o-d. I had to be.” As the pair moved toward the stern, enormous and radiant green waves were crashing futilely after the steamer. Ireland showed a dreary coast line to the north. A wretched man who had crossed the Atlantic eighty-four times was declaiming to a group of novices. A venerable banker, bundled in rugs, was asleep in his deck chair.
    “Well, Nora,” said Coleman, “I hope you make a hit in London. You deserve it if anybody does. You’ve worked hard.”
    “Worked hard,” cried the girl. “I should think so. Eight years ago I was in the rear row. Now I have the centre of the stage whenever I want it. I made Chalmers cut out that great scene in the second act between the queen and Rodolfo. The idea! Did he think I would stand that? And just because he was in love with Clara Trotwood, too.”
    Coleman was dreamy. “Remember when I was dramatic man for the Gazette and wrote the first notice?”
    “Indeed, I do,” answered the girl affectionately. “Indeed, I do, Rufus. Ah, that was a great lift. I believe that was the first thing that had an effect on old Oliver. Before that, he never would believe that I was any good. Give me your arm, Rufus. Let’s parade before the two old women.” Coleman glanced at her keenly. Her voice had trembled slightly. Her eyes were lustrous as if she were about to weep.
    “Good heavens,” he said. “You are the same old Nora Black. I thought you would be proud and ‘aughty by this time.”
    “Not to my friends,” she murmured. “Not to my friends. I’m always the same and I never forget, Rufus.”
    “Never forget what?” asked Coleman.
    “If anybody does me a favour I never forget it as long as I live,” she answered fervently.
    “Oh, you mustn’t be so sentimental, Nora. You remember that play you bought from little Ben Whipple just because he had once sent you some flowers in the old days when you were poor and happened to be sick. A sense of gratitude cost you over eight thousand dollars that time, didn’t it?” Coleman laughed heartily.
    “Oh, it wasn’t the flowers at all,” she interrupted seriously. “Of course Ben was always a nice boy, but then his play was worth a thousand dollars. That’s all I gave him. I lost some more in trying to make it go. But it was too good. That was what was the matter. It was altogether too good for the public. I felt awfully sorry for poor little Ben.”
    “Too good?” sneered Coleman. “Too good? Too indifferently bad, you mean. My dear girl, you mustn’t imagine that you know a good play. You don’t, at all.”
    She paused abruptly and faced him. This regal creature was looking at him so sternly that Coleman felt awed for a moment as if he were in the presence of a great mind. “Do you mean to say that I’m not an artist?” she asked.
    Coleman remained cool. “I’ve never been decorated for