new was essential. She must manage to hit upon something! She
turned it all over in her head. There were too many Lilies, Lilians,
Lillians; you saw nothing but Lillians on the posters. But what about a
Lilia Godiva, quite naked on her bike, like the other on her horse? She
would mimic the scene, love and despair, and she would think of something
to raise a laugh! Peeping Tom, for instance, stretching out his neck and
stealing a kiss as she passed. Oh, she would find a way--trust her!--of
showing them what she had in her! And Jimmy and Trampy pursued her
incessantly with their hateful memory. Trampy, she was told, was still the
darling of the fair.

Lily was greatly astonished that he had not tried to obtain a divorce, on
his side:

"He's afraid," she said to herself.

More than ever, she busied herself with collecting her witnesses; she
would soon be rid of her tramp cyclist.

People also talked about Jimmy, whose reputation was still increasing.
After a triumphant season at the Hippodrome, he had left for America.
Jimmy was becoming a national champion. An article in _The Era_ spoke of
"our Jimmy."

"He's a friend of yours, Lily," people said. "You ought to know all about
him."

Lily tossed her head, like one who could say a great deal if she
would....

Oh, how she longed for revenge when she thought of that! Oh, if she could
only have served them out somehow! If she could get _The Performer Annual_
to send her those questions to answer: "Q. Your favorite town? Your
favorite audience? Your idea of marriage? Your pet aversion?" wouldn't she
give it them hot, just! She thought of having her biography written, the
real one. She herself sometimes jotted down things she remembered, on bits
of paper, on the backs of envelopes, in her dressing-room; arranged her
picture post-cards in order; called that writing her memoirs. She would
crush them with her successes, give names and dates: that lord who wanted
to travel with her, the fifty-pound diamond brooch he had given her. And
bouquets, chocolates, sweets ... by the cart-load! That stage-manager who
cried when she went away! All, all in love with her: yes, those and ever
so many more!

She had so much to say that she did not know where to begin. She knocked
up against too many people, men and women, without counting monkeys,
parrots, dogs, cats, ponies, elephants; it all ended by getting mixed up
in her head, like the theaters and the towns. She grew quite bewilde