to be,
as it developed, catapulted into a new discovery.

Bobby helped Miss Bristol into her coat and the two of us gathered up as
many of the flowers as we could carry and made our way with her through
the stage-entrance and out into the street. As we hailed a taxi' at the
curb, the night life of never-sleeping places was racing at full tide
along Broadway, and swirling in an eddy about Longacre Square. It bore
on its crest its gay flotillas of pleasure--and its drift of derelicts.
To me it pointed all the miserable morals of contrast.

"Where to?" inquired Bobby. "Do you show yourself in triumph at Rector's
grill, or go home to dream of applauding thousands?"

The lady shrugged her shapely shoulders.

"Me for the hay!" she announced with prompt decisiveness. "Jump in,
boys," she invited in afterthought. "I may as well drive you down to
your rooms and drop you first. I need a breath of air to quiet my
nerves."

Out of the garish color and clangor of Broadway, we swept into the
tempered quiet of Fifth Avenue, stretching ghostlike between the twin
threads of electric opals.

"We must both be pretty tired," he suggested when Washington Arch loomed
ahead. "We haven't spoken since Herald Square."

"I'm too happy to talk," she answered. "For ten pretty rough years I've
been building for to-night." She sighed contentedly, then went on, "I
began about the usual way ... musical comedy ... in tights ... carrying
a spear. My first promotion was to the front row. I wasn't fool enough
to kid myself into the notion that it was because I was a Melba or a
Fiske. If I used to go to my hall bedroom every night and cry myself to
sleep it was nobody's business but my own." She must have felt Maxwell's
eyes on her, for her voice took on a note of the defiant as she added,
"And if I didn't always go straight to my hall bedroom, maybe that was
my own business too." She seemed to be reviewing her struggle as she
leaned restfully back against the cushions with to-night's roses in her
lap. Her lids drooped contentedly. "But to-night," she added, "well,
to-night I felt all that was paid for and the receipt signed. How do you
feel, Bobby?"

"Glad it's over," said the man. "I'm tired."

"It hasn't been just exactly a snap for you either," she sympathetically
conceded. "When I first knew you, you were haunting Park Row for a cheap
job, and getting canned by office boys. It's been a long way, we've
come, boy, but we kept plugging when the