ment at East Orange, and he now assured
her that he had certainly never made any appointment for her at East
Orange. The thing was some blunder. New York impresarios did not make
appointments in East Orange. He asked for an explanation.

Pity that she did not open this letter before the other--or the other
was of a nature to drive the existence of the agent's letter--of any
letter--out of her head; for days afterward that all-important message
lay on the table unopened.

The note which Winifred did read was from the bookbinding manager who
had all but engaged her that day. He now informed her that he would have
no use for her services. The clergyman in the taxi had followed very
effectively on Winifred's trail.

She was stunned by this final blow. Her eyes gazed into vacancy. What
she was to do now she did not know. The next day she had to go away into
strange lodgings, with hardly any money, without any possibility of her
applying again to Rex, without support of any sort. She had never known
real poverty, for her "aunt" had always more or less been in funds; and
the prospect appalled her. She would face it, however, at all costs,
and, the bookbinding failing her, her mind naturally recurred, with a
gasp of hope, to the singing.

There was the appointment at East Orange at eight. She looked at the
clock; she might have time, though it would mean an instant rush. She
would go. True, she had written the agent to say that she would not, and
he might have so advised his client. But perhaps he had not had time to
do this, since she had written him so late. In any case, there was a
chance that she should meet the person in question, and then she could
explain. Suddenly she leaped up, hurried on her hat and coat, and ran
out of the house. In a few minutes she was at the Hudson Tube, bound for
Hoboken and East Orange.

Of course it was a mad thing to leave an unopened letter on the table,
but just then poor Winifred was nearly out of her mind.

CHAPTER XVIII

THE CRASH

When Carshaw came, with lightsome step and heart freed from care--for in
some respects he was irresponsible as any sane man could be--to visit
his beloved Winifred next day, he was met by a frightened and somewhat
incoherent Miss Goodman.

"Not been home all night! Surely you can offer some explanation further
than that maddening statement?" cried he, when the shock of her news had
sent the color from his face and the joy from his eyes.

"O