loretta down the corridor. Each little compartment had
its neat, plain white enameled bed, a dresser and a chair.

Stella smiled as Constance entered. "Yes," she murmured in response to
the greeting, "I feel quite myself now."

"Mr. Warrington on the wire," announced Floretta a moment later, coming
down the corridor again with a telephone on a long unwinding wire.

"Hello, Alfred--oh, rocky this morning," Constance overheard. "I said
to myself, 'Never again--until the next time. Vera? Oh, she was as
fresh as a lark. Can I lunch with you downtown? Of course.'" Then as
she hung up the receiver she called, "Floretta, get me a taxi."

"Yes, Miss Larue."

"I always have a feeling here," whispered Stella, "that I am being
listened to. I mean to speak to Vera about it some time. By the way,
wouldn't you like to join us to-night? Vera will be along and Mr.
Warrington and perhaps 'Diamond Jack' Braden--you know him?"

Constance confessed frankly that she did not have the pleasure of the
acquaintance of the well-known turfman and first nighter.

She hesitated. Perhaps it was that that Stella liked. Almost any one
else would have been overeager to accept. But to Constance, sure of
herself now, nothing of the sort was worth scrambling for. Besides, she
was wondering how a man with the fight of his life on his hands could
find time to lunch downtown even with Stella.

"I've taken quite a fancy to you," pressed Stella.

"Thank you, it's very kind of you," Constance answered. "I shall try
very hard to be there."

"I'll leave a box for you at the office. Come around after the
performance to my dressing room."

"Miss Larue, your taxi's waiting," announced Floretta.

"Thanks. Are you going now, Mrs. Dunlap? Yes? Then ride down in the
elevator with me."

They parted at the foot of the elevator and Constance walked through
the arcade of the office building in which the beauty parlor occupied
the top floor. She stopped at a florist's stand to admire the flowers,
but more for an excuse to look back at Stella.

As Stella stepped into a taxicab, showing a generous wealth of silken
hosiery beneath the tango gown, Constance was aware that the driver of
another cab across the street was also interested. She noticed that he
turned and spoke to his fare through the open window.

The cab swung around to follow the other and Constance caught a
fleeting glimpse of a familiar face.

"Drummond," she exclaimed almost aloud.

What did