ew play. It
took place in the saloon of an unoccupied Strand theatre, of which the
stage also had been engaged for rehearsal. The company were gathered
there, and, being more or less experienced actors and actresses, they
received her with looks of courteous indulgence, as one whose leading
place must be due to other things than talent. This stung her; she felt
her position to be a false one, and was vexed that she had permitted Lord
Robert to call for her. But her humiliation had yet hardly begun.

While they stood waiting for the manager, who was late, a gorgeous person
with a waxed mustache and in a fur-lined coat, redolent of the mixed
odour of perfume and stale tobacco, forced his way up to her and offered
his card. She knew the man in a moment.

"I'm Josephs," he said in a confidential undertone, "and if there's
anything I can do for you--acting management--anything--it vill give me
pleesure."

Glory flushed up and said, "But you don't seem to remember, sir, that we
have met before."

The man smiled blandly. "Oh, yes. I've kept track of you ever since and
know all about you. You hadn't made your appearance then, and naturally I
couldn't do much. But now--_now_ if you vill give me de pleesure----"

"Then an agent is one who can do nothing for you when you want help, but
when you don't want it----"

The man laughed to carry off his audacity. "Veil, you know vhat they say
of us--agent from _agere_,'to do,' and we're always 'doing.' Ha, ha! But
if you are villing to let bygones be bygones, I am, and velcome."

Glory's face was crimson. "Will somebody go for the stage doorkeeper?"
she said, and one of the company went out on that errand. Then, raising
her voice so that everybody listened, she said: "Mr. Josephs, when I was
quite unknown, and trying to get on, and finding it very hard, as we all
do, you played me the cruellest trick a man ever played on a woman. I
don't owe you any grudge, but, for the sake of every poor girl who is
struggling to live in London, I am going to turn you out of the house."

"Eh? Vhat?"

The stage doorkeeper had entered. "Porter, do you see this gentleman? He
is never to come into this theatre again as long as we are here, and if
he tries to force his way in you are to call a policeman and have him
bundled back into the street!"

"Daddle doo," and the waxed mustache over the grinning mouth seemed to
cut the face across.

When Josephs had gone Glory could see that the looks of i