U.S.A_ - John Dos Passos [487]
When Agnes came upstairs again after Margo had had
her bath, she said crossly, " Margie, we ought to have di-vorced Tony long ago. This German who's got hold of him is a bad egg. You know how Mr. Hays feels about scandals."
"I know I've been a damn fool."
"I've got to ask Frank about this. I've got an appoint-ment with Madame Esther this afternoon. Frank might tel us the name of a reliable lawyer."
"We can't go to Vardaman. He's Mr. Hardbein's law-yer and Sam's lawyer too. A girl sure is a fool ever to put anything in writing."
The phone rang. It was Mr. Hardbein cal ing up about the contract. Margo sent Agnes down to the office to talk to him. Al afternoon, standing there in front of the long pierglass while the dressmaker fussed around her with her
-416-mouth ful of pins she was worrying about what to do. When Sam came around at five to see the new dresses her hair was stil in the dryer. "How attractive you look with your head in that thing," Sam said, "and the lacy negligee and the little triangle of Brussels lace between your knees. . . . I shal remember it. I have total recal I never forget anything I've seen. That is the secret of visual imagination."
When Agnes came back for her in the Rol s she had
trouble getting away from Sam. He wanted to take them wherever they were going in his own car. "You must have no secrets from me, Margo darling," he said gently. "You wil see I understand everything . . . everything. . . . I know you better than you know yourself. That's why I know I can direct you. I have studied every plane of your face and of your beautiful little girlish soul so ful of desire. . . . Nothing you do can surprise or shock me."
"That's good," said Margo.
He went away sore.
"Oh, Margie, you oughtn't to treat Mr. Margolies like that," whined Agnes.
"I can do without him better than he can do without me," said Margo. "He's got to have a new star. They say he's pretty near on the skids anyway.""Mr. Hardbein says that's just because he's fired his publicityman," said Agnes.
It was late when they got started. Madame Esther's
house was way downtown in a dilapidated part of Los Angeles. They had the chauffeur let them out two blocks from the house and walked to it down an al ey between dusty bungalow courts like the places they'd lived in when they first came out to the coast years ago. Margo nudged Agnes. "Remind you of anything?" Agnes turned to her, frowning.
"We must only remember the pleasant beautiful things, Margie." Madame Esther's house was a big old frame house with
-417-wide porches and cracked shingle roofs. The blinds were drawn on al the grimy windows. Agnes knocked at a
little groundglass door in back. A thin spinsterish woman with grey bobbed hair opened it immediately. "You are late," she whispered. "Madame's in a state. They don't like to be kept waiting. It'l be difficult to break the chain."
"Has she had anything from Frank?" whispered Agnes.
"He's very angry. I'm afraid he won't answer again. . . . Give me your hand." The woman took Agnes's hand and Agnes took Margo's
hand and they went in single file down a dark passageway that had only a smal red bulb burning in it, and through a door into a completely dark room that was ful of people breathing and shuffling.
"I thought it was going to be private," whispered Margo. "Shush," hissed Agnes in her ear. When her eyes got accustomed to the darkness she could see Madame Esther's big puffy face swaying across a huge round table and faint blurs of other faces around it. They made way for Agnes and Margo and Margo found herself sitting down with somebody's wet damp hand clasped in hers. On the table in front of Madame Esther were a lot of little pads of white paper. Everything was quiet except for Agnes's heavy breathing next to her.
It seemed hours before anything happened. Then
Margo saw that Madame Esther's eyes were open but al she could see was the whites. A deep baritone voice was coming out of her lips talking a language she didn't understand. Somebody in the ring answered in the same lan-guage, evidently putting questions. "That's Sidi Hassan the Hindu," whispered Agnes. "He's given some splendid tips on the stockmarket."