been among them, she told Montague. "I kept
straight for a long time," she said, laughing cheerfully--"and on ten
dollars a week! I used to go out on the road, and then they paid me
sixteen; and think of trying to live on one-night stands--to board
yourself and stop at hotels and dress for the theatre--on sixteen a
week, and no job half the year! And all that time--do you know Cyril
Chambers, the famous church painter?"

"I've heard of him," said Montague.

"Well, I was with a show here on Broadway the next winter; and every
night for six months he sent me a bunch of orchids that couldn't have
cost less than seventy-five dollars! And he told me he'd open accounts
for me in all the stores I chose, if I'd spend the next summer in
Europe with him. He said I could take my mother or my sister with
me--and I was so green in those days, I thought that must mean he
didn't intend anything wrong!"

Toodles smiled at the memory. "Did you go?" asked the man.

"No," she answered. "I stayed here with a roof-garden show that failed.
And I went to my old manager for a job, and he said to me, 'I can only
pay you ten a week. But why are you so foolish?' 'How do you mean?' I
asked; and he answered, 'Why don't you get a rich sweetheart? Then I
could pay you sixty.' That's what a girl hears on the stage!"

"I don't understand," said Montague, perplexed. "Did he mean he could
get money out of the man?"

"Not directly," said Toodles; "but tickets--and advertising. Why, men
will hire front-row seats for a whole season, if they're interested in
a girl in the show. And they'll take all their friends to see her, and
she'll be talked about--she'll be somebody, instead of just nobody, as
I was."

"Then it actually helps her on the stage!" said Montague.

"Helps her!" exclaimed Toodles. "My God! I've known a girl who'd been
abroad with a tip-top swell--and had the gowns and the jewels to prove
it--to come home and get into the front row of a chorus at a hundred
dollars a week."

Toodles was cheerful and all unaware; and that only made the tragedy of
it all one shade more black to Montague. He sat lost in sombre reverie,
forgetting his companions, and the blare and glare of the place.

In the centre of this dining-room was a great cone-shaped stand,
containing a display of food; and as they strolled out, Montague
stopped to look at it. There were platters garnished with flowers and
herbs, and containing roast turkeys and baked hams, jell