Page:Our Little Girl (1923).pdf/109

 “Most of the girls I know,” he continued, “aren’t serious about things. They like to go out with more or less attractive young them. men and dance. Headhunters, I call hunting a head for the family.”

He studied the effect of his aphorism. There was not much to study, for Dorothy considered it best to draw him out further.

“What I like about you,” he confessed, “is your determination to go through with something you really want to do. Most girls would be satisfied with hanging around waiting for daddy to come home. But you want to sing— and you’re going through with it. You could have stayed home and played around if you wanted to, you know.”

“I know it.”

“Yes, and that’s what I like. You didn’t go the easiest —I mean the obvious way. It’s harder, doing what you're doing, but it’s more real, if you understand me. You may not find success right away, you know.”

Dorothy seemed to be looking at the film too raptly to be appreciative. Tommy didn’t interest her when he was serious.

“And things may break wrong. You may be nervous at your first recital or out of voice or draw the wrong run of critics or hit opposition-"

“What do you mean, Tommy?"

Tommy sought her hands, which she promptly folded. It was a defence for which he had no counter-move.

“Well, what I mean is that you mustn’t be discouraged as if everything doesn’t go sensationally at first. But long as you believe in yourself, dear-"

Dorothy turned to him sharply.

“We're in a public place, Tommy.”

She didn’t like to rebuke him, but he was growing annoyingly intimate.