When the act split (entirely Evy's fault, of course) work had been short, but desperate times call for desperate measures and Teddy used his one real skill in life, that of dancing, to continue to scrounge a living. Teaching people to dance was a step down from his halcyon days as a child star, but to make ends meet he took one even further down the ladder and got a job as a male 'taxi' at a Palais de Dance in whatever God forsaken city it was that he and his sister had had their final falling out.
Dancing with widows and spinsters of a certain age for five cents a dance might be incredibly demeaning and distasteful to him, but there were dividends. Some of them took a fancy to him. The fact that he didn't look like the popular image of some greasy side-burned gigolo was actually an advantage, these rich frumps weren't ashamed to present this sporty looking man-about-town to their friends and families. There were nods of approval from all when he actually became engaged to one of them. The one with the most money in her savings account, and the least number of other relatives who would get a pay out in her will.
Oh, people sighed so happily at the wedding; despite the age difference, love had found a way! They sighed again, but sadly this time, a few months later at the funeral. Poor Teddy, or Charles or Paul or whatever he was calling himself at that point, he was so cut up about the whole thing he had to cash in the insurance, sell up his late bride's property and move to another state ... to forget.