sation by warning her to be careful with her parasol—that Miss Morris got into trouble with the stage manager for catching it in things"—she asked abruptly: "Was she like these other girls?"
"Why?"
"Because she wasn't very nice, if she was. In the dressing-room—well, they aren't very nice, the way they talk—some of them."
"I'm sorry you don't like it," he apologized humbly: "it's only for a short time, you know—till we find something better. Besides, some of them I've met are not like that. Those that are graduates of the dramatic schools—I'll introduce you to some of them. I think you'll find them better."
"Well."
He piloted her through the rush to the jeweller's window when the alarm was given inside the shop; and after the curtain had fallen, he saw her safely on her way down to her dressing-room again.
In the scenes that followed he watched her across the stage, and tried to smile encouragingly when he caught her eye. She seemed to be getting on better; she had evidently struck up an acquaintance with a "Miss Adara Doran," whom Don had found to be—in spite of her name—quite untheatrical and rather pleasant. He began to feel more hopeful. Perhaps, as she become more accustomed to her surroundings, she would be more contented.
While the stage-hands were setting out the last properties for the lawn-party scene, he picked his way through the crowd of waiting supers in search of her,
