it to her. Of course, just at first she ain't likely to see the
lucky side of it."

The reporter stopped him.

"To hell with you!" he cried out fiercely. "I'll tell her myself--and if
you interrupt me or say a word to her--I'm going to hurt you."

He went slowly to the door, but the manager had followed him with some
excitement, and with no realization that his voice was loud, as he
prompted.

"Put it to her tactful. Remind her that she's made on Broadway, and, now
that the old man and old woman are both dead, she's free."

The dressing-room door suddenly opened, and they saw the girl standing
there unsteadily, but as they approached she took a backward step and
leaned against the wall.

Her eyes had slowly widened, as they had widened before under the
sickening and staggering blows of tragedy. Her lips moved to speak, but
for a while could shape no words. From her shaken bosom came a long and
pitiful moan, which was not loud, and then her voice returned, and she
said, "I heard you. They are--gone."

Smitherton knew that words could hardly help. He closed the door again
and turned aside. Even Lewis moved away and stood silent.

But a few minutes later the dressing-room door once more swung outward
and they saw her at the threshold. She had thrown a cloak around her.
The deadly pallor of her cheeks was grotesquely heightened by the
remnants of rouge which her shaking fingers had failed to completely
remove. Her eyes were wide and staring, gazing into the future or the
past ... into eternity it might have been.

Mr. Abey Lewis laid a hand on her arm.

"Miss Burton," he suggested, "you ain't quite got the paint off yet. It
needs a little more cold cream, still." But Mary did not hear him. She
heard nothing; saw nothing of these surroundings which stood for the
pitifully wasted crucifixion of all her instincts of delicacy.

"This evening at eight," the manager reminded her. "Don't forget--and
maybe you'll feel better then."

For a moment she halted. She had reached the stage-door, other
performers were leaving the theater. She gazed back into the face of Mr.
Abey Lewis, and said blankly, "This evening--what is this evening?"

They sought to stop her, but there was something in those wide eyes that
petrified them all. For the time Mr. Lewis remained as one hypnotized.
The door-man was gazing at her with an expression of awe and wonderment.

Mary herself stood there with the cloak falling open so that the
co