ture
heroine you're trying out now."

"You're a fine movie villain, Jerry. You look as if you would pass me
the poisoned bean."

Silence.

"Jerry, if you don't like any of my behaviours, why were you nice to
me?"

"Because I thought you were a lonely little girl with no one to play
with."

"I am that now, Jerry."

"Whose fault is that?"

"Yours."

He laughed shortly.

"You could play with me, very nicely, with no interruptions from the Wax
Doll, if you'd only thaw. Couldn't you thaw a tiny bit, Jerry?"

He rose and departed to the smoking-room. When an hour had passed and he
did not come back, she marched down the car and into the smoking
compartment.

"Jerry, I'm going to sit in here with you men. I'm lonesome. I've always
wanted to sit in here; it looks so cozy and smells so smelly."

The men laughed and rose to make room for her, but Jerry took her by the
arm and piloted her swiftly forth.

"You'll have to smell it from afar," he said, and felt the grin of the
men behind him. He was thoroughly irritated now.

"Execute me, Jerry, but don't look like that."

"Haven't you any instincts of breeding at all?" he inquired. "No nice
girl does that sort of cheap, fresh thing. What do you suppose those men
think of you? They do not consider you the least cute or clever, if
that is what you intended them to think. Their main idea is that, if I
am your guardian, I ought to lock you up until you learn some manners."

"I wish you _were_ my guardian, Jerry."

Jerry was actually worn out with annoyance, with weariness, with fury at
Wally Bryce for not taking her off his hands. He looked toward his
escape with anticipation, and he devoutly hoped that his farewell with
Isabelle would be forever. They were due in New York at ten o'clock at
night. As they sat, ready to disembark, Isabelle leaned toward him.

"Jerry, do you hate me?"

"Oh, no," casually.

"Will you ever forgive me?"

"You are quite forgiven."

"Have I spoiled the trip for you?"

"Oh, no. You have been most sprightly."

"Oh, Jerry!" she groaned, and relapsed into large-eyed, tragic silence.

In the station, on arrival, the most careful search failed to find the
head mistress. Isabelle was perfectly unconcerned about it, but Jerry
was far from it.

"What are you going to do with me?" she asked.

"Come along," he replied ungraciously, bundling her into a cab.

Arrived at the studio building, he hurried to Bobs's door and rapped. No
an