FROM THE LIFE
the silence, what would be left of the fame and the triumphs even of Sarah Bernhardt?
"What's the matter?" Tom asked her in the auto on their way home. "Don't cry like that. You'll make yourself ill."
She shook her head. She reached out and took his hand blindly. They drove in silence through the evening drizzle.
She did not speak until they were in her front room. She was dry-eyed and tragic-looking. "Come here," she said, holding out her hand to him. He sat beside her on the sofa. It was the sofa from the proposal scene of "Satan's Advocate." She said, "Take me away from all this."
"What?"
"Take me away. You want me. You've always wanted me. Take me away, out West somewhere—where you can get your divorce."
"But my dear girl," he said, "do you know what you're saying? Do you know what it means?" He had released her hand, blank with amazement.
"Yes, yes," she cried. "I know. I want to end it all. No more. Not even to-night. Take me away."
He rose slowly. "But," he said. "But—"
She flung out her hands. "I know. I know. The talk—the scandal—I don't care. I don't want ever again to see their silly faces over the foot-lights. It's all— It doesn't matter. It's nothing. You've wanted—you've always wanted me. You're
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