ld with anxiety and I don't know
which way to turn. Do come at once.

Your friend,

ISOBEL BARTLETT.

Quin sprang out of bed, and then sat down limply, waiting for the
furniture to stop revolving about him. It was evident that he would have
to use his head to save his legs, if he expected to make any progress.
Holding to the bed-post, he brought all his concentration to bear on the
whereabouts of the various garments he had thrown off ten days before.
The lack of a clean shirt and the imperative need of a shave presented
grave difficulties, but he would have gone to Miss Isobel's rescue if he
had had to go in pajamas!

When at last he had struggled into his clothes, he put out his light and
tiptoed past Dirks' door. At the first sniff of night air he began to
cough, and he clapped his hand over his mouth, swearing softly to
himself. On the front steps he hesitated. The rain was falling in sheets,
and the street lights shone through a blur of fog. For the first time,
Quin realized it was a block to the car line, and that he had no
umbrella. Hard experience had taught him the dire results of exposure and
overexertion. But the excitement of once more getting in touch with the
Bartletts, of being of service to Madam, and above all of hearing news of
Eleanor, banished all other considerations. Turning up his coat collar
and pulling his hat over his eyes, he went down the steps and started on
an uncertain run for the corner.

CHAPTER 32

During the days that Quin was floundering in the bog of poverty, illness
and despair, Eleanor Bartlett was triumphantly climbing the peak of
achievement. "Phantom Love," after weeks of strenuous rehearsal and
nerve-racking uncertainty, had had its premiere performance at Atlantic
City and scored an instantaneous hit.

All spring Eleanor had lived in excited anticipation of the event. In the
hard work demanded of her she had found welcome relief from some of her
own complicated problems. She wanted to forget that she had broken her
word, that she was causing the family serious trouble, and more than all
she wanted to forget Quinby Graham and the look on his face when he left
her.

During her stay in New York she had suffered many disillusions. She had
seen her dreams translated into actual and disconcerting realities. But,
in spite of the fact that much of the gold and glamour had turned to
tinsel, she was still fascinated by the life