My real name is Agnes Tuttle, but I changed it when I went to work at the show. I was going to make it something kind of unusual, like Dolores du Bois. But the other girls had given themselves fancy names- Fanchon Rose, and Charlotte Montclair and so on-so I decided to make mine simple. It seemed best to, you know. It stood out more. And if I'd had the same sort of name as those other girls, people might have thought I was cheap and shoddy, too.
I'd been at the show about six months when the police raided it and closed it down. The manager got a big fine, and had to leave town. The girls went back to doing what they had been doing, which was you know what. I hardly knew what to do.
I felt it would be kind of a step down to take a waitress job. There's nothing wrong with being a waitress, of course. But it doesn't pay much, and it's darned hard work. And in view of my experience, I felt that I simply ought to and had to have something better. I was like that then; awfully ambitious, I mean. Willing to do almost anything to be a big-name singer or something like that. Now, I feel just about the opposite. In the first place, I know I'm not much good as a singer and never will be, like Rags McGuire says. In the second place, I just don't care. All I want now is just to be with Ralph, forever and always- and by golly, I
But I'll tell you about that later.
I didn't have money to travel on, and there weren't any jobs like I wanted in Fort Worth. Oh, there were a few, of course, but I couldn't get them. All the talent for them was hired through New York agencies, so I didn't stand a chance, even if I'd had the training and the presence and the clothes. I guess I was pretty awful, then. And I don't just mean my voice. I tried to wear nice things without being flashy, and I tried to be careful about makeup and using good English. But trying isn't enough when you don't have money to work with, and you're not sure of what you're trying for.
I guess I couldn't really blame Rags for thinking I was something that I wasn't.
I was working in a beer garden at the time I met him. It wasn't a very nice place, and it wasn't a real job. I just hung out there, like several other girls did. I got to keep any money a customer gave me for drinking with him, and I also got a commission on what he bought. Then, a few times a night I'd sing a number. And the orchestra and I divided the change that the customers tossed up on the bandstand.
Well, Rags dropped into the place one night, and a waitress tipped me off that he was a big spender. So, after I'd done a number, I went over to his table. I didn't know who he was-just about the greatest jazz musician of all time. I just thought, you know, that if he was going to throw money around, he might as well throw some my way. And I thought he looked awfully interesting, too.
Well. I guess I did just about everything wrong that I could. I just botched everything up, not only that night but the next day when he gave me a singing try-out, and offered me a contract. I-I just don't know! I still squirm inside when I think about it. But I know I didn't act that way just because of the money. I wanted to get ahead, of course, but mostly I wanted to please him. I thought I was doing what he wanted me to do, and he seemed so terribly unhappy I felt that I should. But…
He had no use for me from then on. From then on, I was just dirt to him. He wouldn't let me explain or try to straighten things out. I was just dirt, and he was going to keep it that way.
I tried to excuse him. I told myself that if I'd had a family like his, and the same terrible thing happened to mine that happened to his- though he won't admit it did-why, I might be pretty hard to get along with, too. But, well, you can't keep excusing people forever. If they're simply determined to despise you, you just have to let them. And all you can do about it is to despise them back.
Rags has just done one nice thing for me in all the months I've worked for him. That was when we came here, and he introduced me to Ralph. He didn't mean to be nice, of course. He meant it as a mean joke on me-telling me that Ralph was a very wealthy man and so on. But that was one time Mr. Rags got fooled. Ralph told me the truth about himself that very first night, and I told him the truth about myself. And instead of being mad and disappointed with each other, like Rags thought we would, we fell in love.
Ralph was so cute when he told me about himself. Just like a darling little boy. All the time he was talking I could hardly keep from taking him in my arms and squeezing him. He couldn't make a living any more in this town, it seemed, because everyone was mad at his wife. On the other hand, he'd lived here all his life, and he wouldn't know what to do anywhere else. Not by himself, I mean. And the idea he kind of had in mind in meeting me was- well, he got pretty mixed up at that point. But I understood him, the poor darling. He didn't need to put it into words for me to understand, any more than he's had to put certain other things into words.
While he was hesitating, not knowing quite how to go on, I patted him on the hand and told him to never mind. I said I was awfully glad he seemed to think so much of me because I liked him a lot, too. But maybe if he knew the truth, he'd change his opinion of me.
Well, he didn't try to shut me up like most men would have. You know, just say to forget it and that it didn't matter. He just nodded kind of grave and fatherly-like, and said, 'Is that a fact? Well, maybe you better tell me about it, then.'
I told him. Everything there was to tell, although I may possibly have forgotten a few little things. When I finally stopped, he waited a minute, and then he told me to go on.
'G-go on?' I said. 'But that's all there is.'
'But I thought you were supposed to have done something bad,' he said. 'Something that might change my mind about you.'
Well…
My eyes misted over. I could feel my face puckering up like some big old baby's. I sat there, looking and feeling that way and not knowing what to do. And Ralph reached out and pulled my head against his chest.
'You go right ahead, honey,' he said. 'You just cry all you want to.'
Well, I cried and I cried and I cried. It just seemed like I could never stop, and Ralph told me not to try. So I cried and I cried. And everything that was in me that wasn't really me-that didn't really belong there-was kind of washed away. And I felt all clean and nice and peaceful. And I was never as happy in my life.
Ralph…
I know I get pretty silly whenever I start talking about him, but I just can't help it. And I just don't care. Because however much I rave, I still don't do him justice. He's the handsomest thing you ever saw in your life, for one thing. A lot handsomer than most anyone in pictures-and don't think I won't make him try out for pictures when we get away from here! But that's only one thing. Along with it, he's just the nicest, kindest, understandingest-well, everything. He's mature, and yet he's awfully boyish. The most wonderful sweetheart a girl ever had, but kind of fatherly, too.
We saw each other every night after that. We talked about what we were going to do-kind of talking around the subject. Because it looked like there was just about only one thing we could do. And things like that, they're not something you can very well talk about.
Yes, that mean old hen he was married to would give him a divorce, all right. Or he could just leave, like I'd suggested, and to hell with the divorce. She'd let him know that-those things-although she hadn't said so in so many words. The trouble was she wouldn't let him take the money that belonged to him, money he'd worked for and saved dollar by dollar. She wouldn't even let him take half of it. She kept it under the mattress of her bed, and she made it clear to him that anyone who got it would have to kill her first.
Ralph was afraid to sue her. He had a record book of his savings, showing when and how much he put away. But that wouldn't necessarily prove that the money was his, would it? She might have told him to keep the record for her. And, anyway, those lawsuits drag on forever, and the only ones that get anything out of 'em are the lawyers.
At first, I told Ralph to let her keep the money, the old bag! But Ralph didn't want to do that; we'd need it ourselves to get a decent start in life. And after I thought about it a while, I wouldn't have let him if he had wanted to.
It was his money, wasn't it? His and mine. When something belongs to a person, they ought to have it and if someone tries to stop them
I told Ralph that he ought to speak up to her, instead of just beating around the bush. I said that I'd
