eling she had quite a right to despise this mean and
unworthy beginning, and that it was really generous of her to face the
difficulties occasioned by their narrow means without complaint.

That there were difficulties he could not help knowing, for Cleo was
at no pains to conceal the fact. Rather was she intent on showing that
she was perfectly capable of vanquishing them. When the open-handed
policy she had been compelled to adopt had reduced their resources to
about fifty pounds, Cleo withdrew the money from the bank, saying it
would be safer in her pocket. But by this time her unhesitating
payments had begun to produce their effect, and it had got about that
she was no mere penniless adventuress, but a wealthy stage-struck
dame. As a mysterious personage, suddenly springing from nowhere into
the theatrical world, she began to arouse a good deal of interest, and
the flaneurs in those circles obtained kudos by pretending to precise
information about her. The rumour of riches spread. Tradespeople
became sweet and pliant--the plucking of a goose with golden feathers
was not an every-day event.

Cleo, who could afford to pay anything out of the profits of the huge
success to come, cleverly betrayed the rich amateur's ignorance of
charges, varying it by the occasional query: "Isn't that rather dear?"
Her delight at securing an abatement of a few shillings was so
undisguised that it caused much amusement to complaisant tradesmen.

The transaction of all this preliminary business afforded Cleo an
immense enjoyment. Her front to the world throughout had been the
perfection of boldness.

CHAPTER II.

And now Morgan found himself doing quite a deal of work, arranging
parts for typewriting, reading proofs and trying to understand
something of the--to him--intricate system of theatrical accounts. He
was proud when he succeeded in following business details, astonished
to find they were not beyond his intelligence. He passed to and from
the theatre several times a day, curiously glad to feel himself a
working part of all this complex machinery. But he was never quite
comfortable in the building, wandering uneasily about its corridors
and almost feeling as though he ought to explain his presence to one
or other of its scattered population he encountered in odd corners.
Everybody about the building seemed vaguely respectful to him, as
though possessed of some faint notion that he was attached to Cleo in
some incompreh