S FIND!" "IMPROMPTU ARTIST MAKES BOW."
These were some of the captions.

They all developed the story for what it was worth: Cartel's discovery
of Isabelle at the inn; a few paragraphs about her family; mention of
the wonderful publicity provided for her; a description of the brilliant
first-night audience, with the Bryces' distinguished guests in all the
boxes; Isabelle's reception as the maid. Then followed the plot of the
play, up to the awful moment when Cartel's "discovery" forgot her lines
and began to improvise. They painted the star's astonishment and
subsequent fury. They added speculation as to the real climax of the
evening which must have taken place back on the stage after the dropping
of the final curtain. Every article made you hear the uncontrollable
laughter of the audience.

Isabelle agonized over each one. She raged at the opinion of one
dramatic critic who said that no doubt Cartel would release Miss Bryce
on the morrow, but that a dozen managers would step forward to capture a
young woman of such marked personality, and such a talent for publicity.

Max was right; they were all ruined. She had made the whole family
ridiculous. She wasn't surprised that Max hated her for it. She deserved
anything from them now. She lay in bed for several days, scarcely
touching food, brooding upon her disgrace until she was really ill.

Wally hovered about her, deeply concerned, but not knowing how to
comfort her. He kept Max out of the room as much as he could. Finally he
sent for a doctor.

"Perfectly unnecessary," said his wife. "She isn't sick. She's made a
fool of herself and lost the middle of the stage, so now she goes on a
hunger strike to work up a little sympathy."

"The kid is suffering, I tell you. She is all broken up over this. I
think we ought to take her away somewhere."

"You can count me out. I've been dragged home to open this house for her
convenience. I'm not going off to some empty resort place because she
needs a change."

The doctor had a talk with Isabelle, told her to cheer up, gave her a
tonic, agreed with Wally that she needed a change, and went on his way.

Martin Christiansen asked Max about Isabelle and was informed that she
had the sulks. He asked permission to see her, and he was the first
visitor admitted to her room. He was shocked at the change in her. She
was thin, and haggard, and old. Her eyes hurt him. She was sitting up,
in a big chair, wearing a bizarre Chinese coat