first realising
who was meant. Then suddenly it came to him and he read the whole thing
over again.

"That's her, all right, I guess," he said.

Then he looked about upon a dingy, moth-eaten hotel lobby.

"I guess she's struck it," he thought, a picture of the old shiny,
plush-covered world coming back, with its lights, its ornaments, its
carriages, and flowers. Ah, she was in the walled city now! Its splendid
gates had opened, admitting her from a cold, dreary outside. She seemed
a creature afar off--like every other celebrity he had known.

"Well, let her have it," he said. "I won't bother her."

It was the grim resolution of a bent, bedraggled, but unbroken pride.

Chapter XLIV. AND THIS IS NOT ELF LAND--WHAT GOLD WILL NOT BUY

When Carrie got back on the stage, she found that over night her
dressing-room had been changed.

"You are to use this room, Miss Madenda," said one of the stage lackeys.

No longer any need of climbing several flights of steps to a small
coop shared with another. Instead, a comparatively large and commodious
chamber with conveniences not enjoyed by the small fry overhead. She
breathed deeply and with delight. Her sensations were more physical than
mental. In fact, she was scarcely thinking at all. Heart and body were
having their say.

Gradually the deference and congratulation gave her a mental
appreciation of her state. She was no longer ordered, but requested, and
that politely. The other members of the cast looked at her enviously as
she came out arrayed in her simple habit, which she wore all through
the play. All those who had supposedly been her equals and superiors
now smiled the smile of sociability, as much as to say: "How friendly we
have always been." Only the star comedian whose part had been so deeply
injured stalked by himself. Figuratively, he could not kiss the hand
that smote him.

Doing her simple part, Carrie gradually realised the meaning of the
applause which was for her, and it was sweet. She felt mildly guilty of
something--perhaps unworthiness. When her associates addressed her in
the wings she only smiled weakly. The pride and daring of place were not
for her. It never once crossed her mind to be reserved or haughty--to
be other than she had been. After the performances she rode to her room
with Lola, in a carriage provided.

Then came a week in which the first fruits of success were offered to
her lips--bowl after bowl. It did not matter that he