mplaining talk on the part of those aggrieved filled in the
interlude. The few who believed in the drama were valiant in its
defence, but their arguments did not add to the good-will of those who
loved the actress but detested the play.

"This won't do," said the most authoritative critic, as a detachment
lined up at the bar of the neighboring saloon. "Merival must lop off
this young dramatist or he'll 'queer' her with her best friends. She
mustn't attempt to force this kind of thing down our throats."

"He won't last a week," said another.

Their finality of tone resembled that of emperors and sultans in
counsel.

Douglass, sitting humped and motionless among his gallery auditors, was
clearly aware that Helen was weary and agitated, yet he remained in his
seat, his brain surging with rebellious passion.

His perverse pride was now joined by shame, who seized him by the other
arm and held him prisoner. He felt like fleeing down the fire-escape.
The thought of running the gauntlet of the smirking attendants, the
possibility of meeting some of the exultant dramatic critics, most of
whom were there to cut him to pieces, revolted him. Their joyous grins
were harder to face than cannon, therefore he cowered in his place
during the long wait, his mind awhirl, his teeth set hard.

There were plenty of empty seats in the orchestra when the curtain
lifted on the last act. Several of the critics failed to return. The
playwright dared not look at his watch, for the scenes were dragging
interminably. His muscles ached with the sort of fatigue one feels when
riding in a slow train, and he detected himself pushing with his feet as
if to hurry the action. The galleries did not display an empty bench,
but he took small comfort in this, for he was not a believer in the
old-time theory of pleasing the gallery. "In this city the two-dollar
seats must be filled," he said. "Helen is ruined if she loses them."

He began to pity her and to blame himself. "What right had I to force my
ferocious theories upon her?" he asked himself, and at the moment it
seemed that he had completely destroyed her prestige. She was plainly
dispirited, and her auditors looked at one another in astonishment.
"Can this sad woman in gray, struggling with a cold audience and a group
of dismayed actors, be the brilliant and beautiful Helen Merival?"

That a part of this effect--most of it, in fact--lay in the role of
_Lillian_ they had not penetration enough t