raid of me."

"I am, more than any one."

"Well, Sarah, you needn't be--no matter what you've done. You just
forget it and give me a good big--"

"I'm glad I'm using my own face in this scene," murmured Sarah.

Down at the corner, waiting for his car, he paced back and forth in
front of the bench with its terse message--"You furnish the girl,
we furnish the house"--Sarah was a funny little thing with all that
nonsense about what he would find out. Little he cared if she'd done
something--forgery, murder, anything.

He paused in his stride and addressed the vacant bench: "Well, I've done
my part."

CHAPTER XVIII. "FIVE REELS-500 LAUGHS"

It occurred to him the next morning that he might have taken too lightly
Sarah's foreboding of illness. Reviewing her curious behaviour he
thought it possible she might be in for something serious.

But a midday telephone call at the Montague home brought assurances from
the mother that quieted this fear. Sarah complained of not feeling
well, and was going to spend a quiet day at home. But Mrs. Montague was
certain it was nothing serious. No; she had no temperature. No fever
at all. She was just having a spell of thinking about things, sort of
grouchy like. She had been grouchy to both her parents. Probably because
she wasn't working. No, she said she wouldn't come to the telephone. She
also said she was in a bad way and might pass out any minute. But that
was just her kidding. It was kind of Mr. Gill to call up. He wasn't to
worry.

He continued to worry, however, until the nearness of his screen
debut drove Sarah to the back of his mind. Undoubtedly it was just her
nonsense. And in the meantime, that long--baffled wish to see himself
in a serious drama was about to be gratified in fullest measure. He was
glad the girl had not suggested that she be with him on this tremendous
occasion. He wanted to be quite alone, solitary in the crowd, free to
enjoy his own acting without pretense of indifference.

The Pattersons, of course, were another matter. He had told them of
his approaching debut and they were making an event of it. They would
attend, though he would not sit with them. Mr. Patterson in his black
suit, his wife in society raiment, would sit downstairs and would
doubtless applaud their lodger; but he would be remote from them; in a
far corner of the topmost gallery, he first thought, for Hearts on Fire
was to be shown in one of the big down-town theatres where