the quiet corridor where her colleague was seated already under an
electric lamp reading a penny number.

The girl was a little, tender black and white thing, looking like a
dahlia. In a quarter of an hour Glory knew all about her. During the day
she served in a shop in the Whitechapel Road. Her name was Agatha
Jones--they called her Aggie. Her people lived in Bethnal Green, but
Charlie always came to the theatre to take her home. Charlie was her
young man.

In the intervals between the acts Glory assisted in the cloak-room, and
there the great ladies began to be very amusing. After the tinkle of the
electric bell announcing the second act she returned to the deserted
corridor, and before her audience of one gave ridiculous imitations in
dead silence of ladies using the puff and twiddling up their front hair.

"My! It's you as oughter be on the styge, my dear," said Aggie.

"Do you think so?" said Glory.

"I'm going on myself soon. Charlie's getting me on the clubs."

"The clubs?"

"The foreign clubs in Soho. More nor one has begun there."

"Really?"

"The foreigners like dancing best. If you can do the splits and shoulder
the leg it's the mykings of you for life."

When the performance was over they found Charlie waiting on the square in
front of the house. Glory had seen him before, and she recognised him
immediately. He was the young Cockney with the rolled fringe who had
bantered the policeman by Palace Yard on Lord Mayor's Day. They got into
the Underground together, and when Glory returned to the subject of the
foreign clubs Charlie grew animated and eloquent.

"They give ye five shillings a turn, and if yer good for anythink ye may
do six turns of a Sunday night, not ter speak of special nights, and
friendly leads and sech."

When Glory got out at the Temple Aggie's head was resting on Charlie's
shoulder, and her little gloved fingers were lightly clasped in his hand.

On the second night Glory had conquered a good deal of her pride. The
grace of her humour was saving her. It was almost as if somebody else was
doing servant's duty and she was looking on and laughing. After all it
was very funny that she should be there, and what delicious thoughts it
would bring later! Even Nell Gwynne sold oranges in the pit at first, and
then some day when she had risen above all this----

It must have been a great night of some sort. She had noticed red baize
and an awning outside, and the front of one of the