vely. He did not
understand. How was it possible for her to wait? She had already waited
until everything was gone--her rings, her watch and chain, even the
clothes on her back. She was absolutely penniless; unless relief came
soon she would be turned into the streets. Oh, why could he not have
guessed the truth from her letters, and come back to her?

Going to the bed, she fell face down upon it, burying her face in her
hands. A convulsive sobbing shook her entire being. It was too hard to
bear. She had tried to be brave, but her heart was breaking. Ah, if
John only knew! What did she care for riches? If only he would come to
comfort her and give her courage.

For fifteen minutes she lay there, motionless, a pathetic figure of
utter despondency. The minutes might have lengthened into hours, when
suddenly a hurdy-gurdy in the street below started to play a popular
air. Often the most trivial and commonplace incident will change the
entire current of our thoughts. It was so in this instance. The cheap
music had the effect of instantly galvanizing the young actress into
life. It suddenly occurred to her that she was ravenously hungry. She
rose from the bed, went to the wardrobe and took out a box of crackers.
Then opening the window, at the same time humming the tune of the
hurdy-gurdy, she got a bottle of milk that was standing on the sill
outside and placed it on the table. Next she went to the washstand and
rinsed out a tumbler. While thus engaged, there came a timid knock at
the door. Startled, not knowing who it could be, unwilling that
strangers should detect the traces of tears, she went quickly to the
dresser and powdered her nose. The knocking was repeated.

"Come in!" she called out, without turning round.

The door opened and Jim Weston appeared. He halted on the threshold,
holding the knob in his hand.

"May I come in?"

"Hello, Jim! Of course you may. I'm awfully glad you came. I was
feeling horribly blue. Any luck?"

The advance agent came in, closing the door carefully behind him.

"Lots of it," he grinned.

"That's good," exclaimed Laura, who was still at the mirror arranging
her hair. "Tell me."

"It's bad luck--as usual. I kind o' felt around up at Burgess's office.
I thought I might get a job there, but he put me off until to-morrow.
Somehow those fellows always do business to-morrow."

Laura closed the window, shutting out the sound of the street music,
which now could be heard only faint