dramatic agent, a jaundiced little man, with ferret-like eyes, and a
greasy frock coat.

"Next!" he exclaimed in a rasping voice.

"Miss Durant!" called out the office boy.

The woman whose warm championship of the stage had been so abruptly
interrupted, rose with alacrity and disappeared behind Mr. Quiller's
closed door, while the young actress whose interview was ended made her
way to the main entrance. Her face was veiled and she walked quickly,
looking to neither left nor right, her eyes fixed on the floor, as if
anxious to avoid observation. As she passed Weston, he happened to look
up.

"Hello, Laura!" he exclaimed, as he recognized her. "So it was you in
there with old skinflint all that time."

It was Laura Murdock, but what a startling change a few months had
wrought! Who could have recognized in this pale, attenuated-looking
young person, whose old-fashioned clothes, and out-of-style hat,
suggested poverty's grim clutch, the famous beauty, whose jewelry and
gowns used to be the envy of every woman in New York? Where the pace is
so swift, those who do not keep up with the procession soon drop far
behind. The girl had had a hard time of it since she bade John Madison
good-bye in Colorado. He had resigned his newspaper position and had
gone with a companion to search for gold. He travelled East with her as
far as Chicago, where they said farewell.

"You'll be true, little one," he cried, as he clasped her in his strong
arms.

"Until death, John!" she said through her tears.

They promised to write at least once a week and tell each other
everything. The time would soon pass, and when he came back they would
get married. And so they parted, he to Nevada; she back to New York,
once more to take up her work--not her old life.

Faithful to her solemn promise, she gave up her fine apartment, and
took less expensive rooms. She dressed more modestly, eschewed
taxicabs, after-theatre suppers, and other unnecessary luxuries and
shunned her old associates. Little champagne suppers, and the small
hours, knew her no more. She was sincere in her determination to break
off with that kind of life forever. Henceforth she would live within
such income as she could legitimately earn on the stage.

But she soon found that it was more difficult than she supposed.
Managers' offices did not seem so easy of access as before. The success
of her stock engagement at Denver had not impressed the New York
managers so favorably