el, to say something for me at nine
o'clock on the Queen's birthday. And you remember that Mr. Drake used to
think pearls and diamonds of Glory, and predict wonderful things for her.
Then you don't forget that Mr. Drake had a friend named Lord Robert Ure,
commonly called Lord Bob. Well, you see, by Mr. Drake's advice, and Lord
Bobbie's influence and agency, and I don't know what, I have made one
more change--it's to be the last, dears, the very last--in my
Wandering-Jew existence, and now I am no longer a society entertainer,
because I am a music-hall art----"

Glory had written so far when she dropped the pen and rose from the
table, wiping her eyes.

"My poor child, you can't tell them, it's impossible; they would never
forgive you!"

Then a carriage stopped before the house, the garden bell was rung, and
the maid came into the room with a lady's card. It was inscribed "Miss
Polly Love," with many splashes and flourishes.

"Ask her up," said Glory. And then Polly came rustling up the stairs in a
silver-gray silk dress and a noticeable hat, and with a pug-dog tucked
under her arm. She looked older and less beautiful. The pink and ivory of
her cheeks was coated with powder, and her light gray eyes were
pencilled. There was the same blemished appearance as before, and the
crack in the vase was now plainly visible.

Glory had met the girl only once since they parted after the hospital,
but Polly kissed her effusively. Then she sat down and began to cry.

"Perhaps you wouldn't think it, my dear, but I'm the most miserable girl
in London. Haven't you heard about it? I thought everybody knew. Robert
is going to be married. Yes, indeed, to-morrow morning to that American
heiress, and I hadn't an idea of it until Monday afternoon. That was the
day of your luncheon, dear, and I felt sure something was going to
happen, because I broke my looking-glass dressing to go out. Robert took
me home, and he began to play the piano, and I could see he was going to
say something. 'Do you know, little woman, I'm to be married on
Saturday?' I wonder I didn't drop, but I didn't, and he went on playing.
But it was no use trying, and I burst out and ran into my room. After a
minute I heard him coming in, but he didn't lift me up as he used to do.
Only talked to me over my back, telling me to control myself, and what he
was going to do for me, and so on. He used to say a few tears made me
nicer looking, but it was no good crying--and then