I've been there long enough to have
some say-so, and if I recommend you they'd start you in the basement
at first, and then, if you made good, they advance you right along."
Blanche LeHaye stood up and, twisting her arm around at the back,
began to unbutton her gingham apron.
"I guess you think I'm a bad one, don't you? Well, maybe I am. But I'm
not the worst. I've got a brother. He lives out West, and he's rich,
and married, and respectable. You know the way a man can climb out of
the mud, while a woman just can't wade out of it? Well, that's the way
it was with us. His wife's a regular society bug. She wouldn't admit
that there was any such truck as me, unless, maybe, the Municipal
Protective League, or something, of her town, got to waging a war
against burlesque shows. I hadn't seen Len--that's my brother---in
years and years. Then one night in Omaha, I glimmed him sitting down
in the B. H. row. His face just seemed to rise up at me out of the
audience. He recognized me, too. Say, men are all alike.
Pages:
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123