personality
laid bare for public inspection.'"

They were outside Magda's dressing-room by this time, and Virginie, who
had flown to her nurseling the moment the dance was at an end, opened
the door in response to Lady Arabella's preemptory knock. Gillian paused
a moment before entering the room.

"Yours is a wonderful gift of perception," she said quietly. "It ought
to make you--very merciful."

Michael looked at her swiftly. Her eyes seemed to be asking something
of him--entreating. But before he could speak Lady Arabella's voice
interposed remorselessly.

"Come in, you two; and for goodness' sake shut the door. There's draught
enough to waft one to heaven."

There was no choice but to obey, and silently Quarrington followed Mrs.
Grey into the room.

CHAPTER VI

MICHAEL CHANGES HIS MIND

Magda's dressing-room at the Imperial Theatre was something rather
special in the way of dressing-rooms. It had been designed expressly
for her by the management, and boasted a beautifully appointed bathroom
adjoining it where she could luxuriate in a refreshing dip immediately
after the strain and fatigue of her work on the stage.

She had been very firm about the bathroom, airily dismissing a plaintive
murmur from the manager to the effect that they were "somewhat crowded
for space at the Imperial."

"Then take another theatre, my dear man," she had told him. "Or build!
Or give the _corps de ballet_ one less dressing-room amongst them.
But if you want _me_, I must have a bathroom. If I dance, I bathe
afterwards. If not, I don't dance."

Being a star of the first magnitude, the Wielitzska could dictate her
own terms, and accordingly a bathroom she had.

She had just emerged from its white-tiled, silver-tapped luxury a
few minutes before Lady Arabella, together with Gillian and Michael
Quarrington, presented themselves at her dressing-room door, and they
found her ensconced in an easy-chair by the fire, sipping a cup of
steaming hot tea.

"I've brought Mr. Quarrington to see you," announced Lady Arabella. "I
thought perhaps you'd like some other congratulations besides family
ones."

"Am I permitted?" asked Quarrington, taking the hand Magda held out to
him. "Or are you too tired to be bothered with an outsider?"

Magda looked up at him.

"I've very glad to see you," she said quietly.

She appeared unwontedly sweet and girlish as she sat there, clad in a
negligee of some soft silken stuff that clung about t