Of where you came from or how you've lived, I
know nothing. And it's none of my business--no more than it's
the public's business where __I__ came from and how I've learned
to write plays."
Well, whether he was guessing any part of the truth or all of
it, certainly what she had said about the police and now this
sweeping statement of his attitude toward her freed her of the
necessity of disclosing herself. She eagerly tried to dismiss
the thoughts that had been making her most uneasy. She said:
"You think I can learn to act?"
"That, of course," replied he. "Any intelligent person can
learn to act--and also most persons who have no more
intelligence in their heads than they have in their feet.
I'll guarantee you some sort of career. What I'm interested
to find out is whether you can learn _not_ to act. I believe
you can. But----" He laughed in self-mockery. "I've made several
absurd mistakes in that direction. . . . You have led a life in
which most women become the cheapest sort of liars--worse
liars even than is the usual respectable person, because they
haven't the restraint of fearing loss of reputation. Why is
it you have not become a liar?"
Susan laughed. "I'm sure I don't know. Perhaps because lying
is such a tax on the memory. May I have another cigarette?"
He held the match for her. "You don't paint--except your
lips," he went on, "though you have no color.
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