At last she returned, to tell a story of revolting mistreatment and desertion by the man who met his death at the hands of Harry Thaw.
"When I was lifted from the pie to a seat at the table I found myself queen of the revel," she said. "It was dazzling at first," she said, "but in the end it became a sad queendom.
"Mr. White was kind for a time, but when he went to Europe he instructed his clerks to get rid of me with as little trouble as possible. I never saw him again."
Turned into the street to live as she might, this girl, not yet 18, finally married, but her husband, when he learned of her part in the "pie" banquet, brooded over the affair, and deserted his girl wife without attempting to avenge her wrongs. She died soon afterward.
Stanford White was as respectful to women of the stage who demanded respect as he was to his wife's friends.
He was one of a group of men, old and young, who are oftenest seen in and near theaters where frothy nonsense charmingly unclad is enacted and in restaurants where musical comediennes tempt their dainty appetites with broiled lobster.
He knew many theatrical managers, and some of them often invited him behind the scenes—but not to inspect the architecture.
Stanford White was indefatigable in his pursuit
