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just got to raise some money, or git some work, or the first thing you'll know, I'll be hanging around Central Park on a dark night with a club." "Hello, Jim!" hailed a feminine voice in greeting. The two men quickly looked up. An attractive, stylishly dressed young woman had halted. A smile of recognition lit up the agent's wan face, and starting forward, he shook warmly the proffered hand. The actor, touching his hat, turned to go. To Weston, he said: "If you hear of anything in my line, bear me in mind, old man." "I will, Ned, never fear. Good-bye and good luck." The actor strolled on and the agent turned to his feminine acquaintance: "Why, Elfie St. Clair!" he exclaimed, "I haven't seen you for an age." It was Elfie St. Clair, bearing, as usual, all the outward signs of prosperity. Like most women of her class, she always over-dressed. From her picture hat and jeweled neck, to her silk stockings and dainty patent leather slippers, she had them all on, and more than one passerby turned to stare. Extravagant clothes which, on Fifth Avenue would be taken as a matter of course, caused a mild sensation among the general dullness of the busy Rialto. But Elfie ignored the attention she attracted, and went on chatting, unconcerned. What did she care if people guessed how she made the money to dress as she did? She was too old at the business for that, too hardened, yet with all her effrontery, she had at least one redeeming virtue. In her days of prosperity she was never too proud to greet or help old friends. She had met Jim Weston years ago. He was press agent for the first company she joined, and she had not forgotten trifling little services he had rendered her at that precarious time. With a glance at his shabby clothes, she asked: "What are you doing now?" "Same as usual--nothing!" he answered dryly. "Down on your luck, eh?" she said sympathetically. "Never had any luck," he grumbled. "Been out long?" "Only six weeks the whole season. Show busted. I'm on my uppers for fair this time--eligible for the down-and-out club. No prospects, either." The girl made a motion with her pocketbook. Kindly she said: "Say, Jim--let me loan you a ten spot--we're old pals, you and I----" He shook his head determinedly. Almost savagely, he exclaimed: "No, I'll be d----d if I do! The river before that. Thank God, I still have my self respect left!" Quickly changing the topic, he went on: "I met an o
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