, all orange and black and
gold. She looked any age, an exotic little creature. The hand she
offered was thin as a bird's claw.

"I've been thinking that you might understand," she said to him, before
he could speak.

"Thank you."

He drew a chair beside hers and waited.

"You didn't think I forgot my lines, did you?"

"It wasn't like you."

"I didn't. I was bored at rehearsals, and so I made up a wonderful
Mary-part for myself, a noble character whom every one trusted."

Her eyes were upon his face, and he nodded slowly, hoping that his
amusement did not leak through his expression.

"Every day, all those hours, I used to be this made-up Mary, and just
toward the last I got a little wobbly as to which Mary was which," she
admitted.

"Naturally."

"I knew you would see that. Well, the night of the opening I was so
excited that I mixed them all up."

She said this with such tragic emphasis that he did not even want to
laugh.

"How unfortunate!" he exclaimed.

"No, it wasn't unfortunate," she cried; "it was stupid, stupid, stupid!"

"Yes, it was, a trifle," he admitted.

"I thought I was going to be such a success. I just knew I could act.
Cartel said it would take me years of hard work even to begin to be an
artist, and I thought I could just show him."

"I think you may be said to have shown him!" Christiansen remarked.

"Yes, I did. I showed him I was a fool. I don't wonder that he nearly
killed me for it."

"No doubt it was real agony for a man as highly strung as he is. For
months he had been building a fine house, and in three blows you sent it
crumbling."

"Oh, don't!" groaned Isabelle.

"I didn't come to reproach you. I came to help. I want to be sure that
we both understand that you have been to blame in this affair. That
settled, we'll go on to the next step."

"There isn't any next step. I've disgraced us all."

"Oh, come, it isn't so bad as that. You have given a great many people a
good laugh, and no doubt they are very grateful to you for it. Now, do
you want to go on with the stage?--really to study the fine art of
acting?"

"No! _no! NO!_"

"What are your plans?"

"I haven't any."

"You cannot spend the rest of your life in this room, my child."

"I'd like to."

"There's always something to be made of our tragedies, Isabelle. The
first thing is to get yourself well again. You're all eyes. It won't do.
You must go away and get together, and when you come back we will