On the ground Wylie and I were suddenly friends, because he held out his arm to steady me when I got out of the plane. From then on, he made a dead set for me[8] and I didnt mind. From the moment we walked into the airport it had become plain that if we were stranded here we were stranded here together. (It wasnt like the time I lost my boy the time my boy played the piano with that girl Reina in a little New England farmhouse near Bennington, and I realized at last I wasnt wanted. Guy Lombardo was on the air playing Top Hat and Cheek to Cheek, and she taught him the melodies. The keys falling like leaves and her hands splayed over his as she showed him a black chord. I was a freshman then.)
When we went into the airport Mr. Schwartz was along with us, too, but he seemed in a sort of dream. All the time we were trying to get accurate information at the desk, he kept staring at the door that led out to the landing field, as if he were afraid the plane would leave without him. Then I excused myself for a few minutes and something happened that I didnt see, but when I came back he and White were standing close together, White talking and Schwartz looking twice as much as if a great truck had just backed up over him.
He didnt stare at the door to the landing field any more. I heard the end of Wylie Whites remark
I told you to shut up. It serves you right.[9]
I only said
He broke off as I came up and asked if there was any news. It was then half-past two in the morning.
A little, said Wylie White. They dont think well be able to start for three hours anyhow, so some of the softies are going to a hotel. But Id like to take you out to the Hermitage, Home of Andrew Jackson[10].
How could we see it in the dark? demanded Schwartz.
Hell, itll be sunrise in two hours.
You two go, said Schwartz.
All right you take the bus to the hotel. Its still waiting hes in there. Wylies voice had a taunt in it. Maybe itd be a good thing.
No, Ill go along with you, said Schwartz hastily.
We took a taxi in the sudden country dark outside, and he seemed to cheer up. He patted my knee-cap encouragingly.
I should go along, he said, I should be chaperone. Once upon a time when I was in the big money[11], I had a daughter a beautiful daughter.
He spoke as if she had been sold to creditors as a tangible asset.
Youll have another, Wylie assured him. Youll get it all back. Another turn of the wheel and youll be where Cecilias papa is, wont he, Cecilia?
Where is this Hermitage? asked Schwartz presently. Far away at the end of nowhere? Will we miss the plane?
Skip it[12], said Wylie. We ought tove brought the stewardess along for you. Didnt you admire the stewardess? I thought she was pretty cute.
We drove for a long time over a bright level countryside, just a road and a tree and a shack and a tree, and then suddenly along a winding twist of woodland. I could feel even in the darkness that the trees of the woodland were green that it was all different from the dusty olive-tint of California. Somewhere we passed a negro driving three cows ahead of him, and they mooed as he scatted them to the side of the road. They were real cows, with warm, fresh, silky flanks, and the negro grew gradually real out of the darkness with his big brown eyes staring at us close to the car, as Wylie gave him a quarter. He said Thank you thank you, and stood there, and the cows mooed again into the night as we drove off.
I thought of the first sheep I ever remember seeing hundreds of them, and how our car drove suddenly into them on the back lot of the old Laemmle studio. They were unhappy about being in pictures, but the men in the car with us kept saying:
Swell?
Is that what you wanted, Dick?
Isnt that swell? And the man named Dick kept standing up in the car as if he were Cortéz[13] or Balboa[14], looking over that grey fleecy undulation. If I ever knew what picture they were in, I have long forgotten.
We had driven an hour. We crossed a brook over an old rattly iron bridge laid with planks. Now there were roosters crowing and blue-green shadows stirring every time we passed a farmhouse.
I told you itd be morning soon, said Wylie. I was born near here the son of impoverished southern paupers. The family mansion is now used as an outhouse. We had four servants my father, my mother and my two sisters. I refused to join the guild, and so I went to Memphis to start my career, which has now reached a dead end[15]. He put his arm around me: Cecilia, will you marry me, so I can share the Brady fortune?
He was disarming enough, so I let my head lie on his shoulder.
What do you do, Celia. Go to school?
I go to Bennington. Im a junior.
Oh, I beg your pardon. I should have known, but I never had the advantage of college training. But a junior why I read in Esquire that juniors have nothing to learn, Cecilia.
Why do people think that college girls
Dont apologize knowledge is power.
Youd know from the way you talk that we were on our way to Hollywood, I said. Its always years and years behind the times.
He pretended to be shocked.
You mean girls in the East have no private lives?
Thats the point. They have got private lives. Youre bothering me, let go.
I cant. It might wake Schwartz, and I think this is the first sleep hes had for weeks. Listen, Cecilia: I once had an affair with the wife of a producer. A very short affair. When it was over she said to me in no uncertain terms[16], she said: Dont you ever tell about this or Ill have you thrown out of Hollywood. My husbands a much more important man than you!
I liked him again now, and presently the taxi turned down a long lane fragrant with honeysuckle and narcissus, and stopped beside the great grey hulk of the Andrew Jackson house. The driver turned around to tell us something about it, but Wylie shushed him, pointing at Schwartz, and we tiptoed out of the car.
You cant get into the Mansion now, the taxi man told us politely.
Wylie and I went and sat against the wide pillars of the steps.
What about Mr. Schwartz, I asked. Who is he?
To hell with Schwartz. He was the head of some combine once First National? Paramount? United Artists? Now hes down and out[17]. But hell be back. You cant flunk out of pictures unless youre a dope or a drunk.
You dont like Hollywood, I suggested.
Yes I do. Sure I do. Say! This isnt anything to talk about on the steps of Andrew Jacksons house at dawn.
I like Hollywood, I persisted.
Its all right. Its a mining town in lotus land. Who said that? I did. Its a good place for toughies, but I went there from Savannah, Georgia. I went to a garden party the first day. My host shook hands and left me. It was all there that swimming pool, green moss at two dollars an inch, beautiful felines having drinks and fun