"
She examined Joan awhile in silence. "Are you on the stage?" she asked.
"No," answered Joan. "But my mother was. Are you?"
"Thought you looked a bit like it," said the girl. "I'm in the chorus.
It's better than being in service or in a shop: that's all you can say
for it."
"But you'll get out of that," suggested Joan. "You've got the actress
face."
The girl flushed with pleasure. It was a striking face, with intelligent
eyes and a mobile, sensitive mouth. "Oh, yes," she said, "I could act
all right. I feel it. But you don't get out of the chorus. Except at a
price."
Joan looked at her. "I thought that sort of thing was dying out," she
said.
The girl shrugged her shoulders. "Not in my shop," she answered.
"Anyhow, it was the only chance I ever had. Wish sometimes I'd taken it.
It was quite a good part."
"They must have felt sure you could act," said Joan. "Next time it will
be a clean offer."
The girl shook her head. "There's no next time," she said; "once you're
put down as one of the stand-offs. Plenty of others to take your place.
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