ringed hand, her head supported by her pillows in soiled muslin cases,
and several satin and velvet cushions from a couch. In the room also
were Connie Girard and Rose Ransome, who had a bowl of soapsuds and
several scissors and orange-wood sticks on the table between them, and
were manicuring each other very fastidiously. A third actress, a young
Englishwoman with a worn, hard face, rouged cheeks, and glittering eyes,
was calling, with her little son, upon Mrs. Tarbury.

"Hello, darling!" said the lady of the house herself, as Julia came in.
The girls gave her an affectionate welcome, and Julia was introduced to
the stranger.

"Mrs. Cloke is my real name," said the Englishwoman briskly. "But you'd
know me better as Alice Le Grange, I daresay. You'll have heard of my
little sketches--the Mirror gave Mr. Cloke and I a whole page when first
we came to this country, and we had elegant bookings--elegant. I'd my
little flat in New York all furnished, and," she said to Mrs. Tarbury,
"I was used to _everything_--the managers at home all knew me, and all,
you know--" She laughed with some bitterness. "It does seem funny to be
out here doing this," she added. "But there was the kiddy to
consider--and, as I told you, there was trouble!"

"Parties who used their influence to get 'em out!" said Miss Girard
darkly, in explanation, with a glance at Julia. "Favouritism--"

"And jealousy," added Alice Le Grange.

Julia was sympathetic, but not deeply impressed. She had heard this
story in many forms before. She attracted the attention of little Eric
Cloke, and showed him the pictures of the Katzenjammer Kids and Foxy
Grandpa in the newspaper. Later she accompanied Rose and Connie to their
room, put on loose clothing, and lay on her bed watching them dress.

The girls were to dine together, with two admirers, and urged Julia to
ask a third man, and come, too. Julia refused steadily; she was very
quiet and the others thought her tired.

She lay on her side, one hand falling idle over the edge of the bed, her
serious, magnificent eyes moving idly from Connie's face to Rose's, and
roving over the room. Hot sunlight poured through the dirty windows and
the torn curtains of Nottingham lace, and flamed on the ugly wallpaper
and the flawed mirrors. A thousand useless knickknacks made the room
hideous; every possible surface was strewn with garments large and
small, each bureau was a confusion of pins and brushes, paste and powder
boxe