erformers except for themselves. Jesse would
frequently reach home enough earlier to be sound asleep when his wife
rushed in to seize her hungry and fretting baby. Little Leroy spent the
early evening in Martie's bed; one of the maids in the house being paid
in Mabel's old finery for coming to look at the children now and then.

At intervals the Bannisters and the Cluetts did have little
after-theatre suppers, but Martie was heroically dieting, Mabel tired
and sleepy, and both gentlemen somewhat subject to indigestion. So
Martie and Wallace more often went alone, Martie drinking bouillon and
nibbling a cracker, and her husband devouring large orders of coffee
and scrambled eggs.

They had been married perhaps eight weeks when Wallace astonished her
by drinking too much. She had always fancied herself too broad-minded
to resent this in the usual wifely way, but the fact angered her, and
she suffered over the incident for days.

It was immediately after the termination of his successful engagement,
and he and the Cluetts were celebrating the inauguration of a rest.
With two or three other members of the cast, they went to dine at the
Cliff House, preceding the dinner with several cocktails apiece. There
was a long wait for the planked steak, during which time more cocktails
were ordered; Martie, who had merely tasted the first one, looking on
amiably as the others drank.

Presently Mabel began to laugh unrestrainedly, much to Martie's
half-comprehending embarrassment. The men, far from seeming to be
shocked by her hysteria, laughed violently themselves.

"Time f'r 'nother round cocktails!" Jesse said. Martie turned to her
husband.

"Wallace! Don't order any more. Not until we've had some solid food,
anyway. Can't you see that we don't need them?"

"What is it, dear?" Wallace moved his eyes heavily to look at her. His
face was flushed, and as he spoke he wet his lips with his tongue.
"Whatever you say, darling," he said earnestly. "You have only to ask,
and I will give you anything in my power. Let me know what you wish----"

"I want you not to drink any more," Martie said distressedly.

"Why not, Martie--why not, li'l girl?" Wallace asked her caressingly.
He put his arm about her shoulders, breathing hotly in her face. "Do
you know that I am crazy about you?" he murmured.

"If you are," Martie answered, with an uncomfortable glance about for
watching eyes, "please, please----!"

"Martie," he said lovingly, "d