ittle at his inquisition.

"Have you seen him often?"

"To-day was the first time."

"He has written to you?"

"Yes."

"Sent you presents, I suppose?"

"A few pieces of jewelry. Every week he has sent me an envelope. Inside,
with a blank piece of paper, was a hundred-dollar bill. I never knew
until to-day who sent them."

"What have you done with these things?"

"I handed them all back to him, in this room, half an hour ago. I told
him I could accept nothing from him, but finally I agreed to go to
dinner with him to-night. He's probably waiting out front now, in his
car."

Clayton rose to his feet nervously and paced the floor.

"What else did he say?" he inquired.

"He was very nice and respectful. He offered to speak to Mr. Weldon, the
manager, and get me a new part--perhaps the leading part--in his new
production."

"So that's his little game, is it?" said Clayton, still more annoyed.
"Money and jewels returned, his next bribe is an engagement. How do you
know you could play the part?"

"I might succeed," pouted Martha. "And even a star who tries and fails,
can never forget that she did star--once."

"And so your success means more to you than anything else that life can
offer?"

Martha's eyes were still fired by the light of her ambition. "Yes," she
said.

"If you please, Miss," interrupted Lizzie, entering at that moment, "Mr.
Gordon is outside in his car, and wants to know if you will be ready
soon."

"Tell him--" began Martha. Then she hesitated, looking doubtfully at
Clayton, who came close to her as though awaiting her decision on a
momentous matter.

"Martha," he asked, "are you still determined to keep this dinner
engagement with Gordon?"

"Why not?" Martha seemed to take a keen delight in arousing his
displeasure. "There's no harm in it, and Mr. Gordon has been very kind
to me."

"As he has been to the others--before you," said Clayton, bitterly,
almost savagely.

"What do you mean?"

"Never mind. If I can't convince you without blackguarding him, I'll let
you go. I only ask you to trust me, and believe that I am doing my
best--for you." Clayton paused doubtfully. "If you hate to eat dinner
alone," he added suddenly, as an afterthought, "so do I. Martha, come
with me."

"But I promised Mr. Gordon. He's waiting."

"But remember, you have a contract with me."

"Yes," replied Martha, half angrily. "With a friend. Not a jailer.
Good-night."

Martha started toward the door,