, and not too tired?"

"I'm not tired at all. I was just wondering how people can ever die.
Why did you remind me of the mummy? Life seems the strongest and most
indestructible thing in the world. Do you really believe that all those
people rushing about down there, going to good dinners and clubs and
theatres, will be dead some day, and not care about anything? I don't
believe it, and I know I shan't die, ever! You see, I feel too--too
powerful!"

The carriage stopped. Bartley sprang out and swung her quickly to
the pavement. As he lifted her in his two hands he whispered: "You
are--powerful!"

CHAPTER VIII

The last rehearsal was over, a tedious dress rehearsal which had lasted
all day and exhausted the patience of every one who had to do with it.
When Hilda had dressed for the street and came out of her dressing-room,
she found Hugh MacConnell waiting for her in the corridor.

"The fog's thicker than ever, Hilda. There have been a great many
accidents to-day. It's positively unsafe for you to be out alone. Will
you let me take you home?"

"How good of you, Mac. If you are going with me, I think I'd rather
walk. I've had no exercise to-day, and all this has made me nervous."

"I shouldn't wonder," said MacConnell dryly. Hilda pulled down her
veil and they stepped out into the thick brown wash that submerged St.
Martin's Lane. MacConnell took her hand and tucked it snugly under his
arm. "I'm sorry I was such a savage. I hope you didn't think I made an
ass of myself."

"Not a bit of it. I don't wonder you were peppery. Those things are
awfully trying. How do you think it's going?"

"Magnificently. That's why I got so stirred up. We are going to hear
from this, both of us. And that reminds me; I've got news for you. They
are going to begin repairs on the theatre about the middle of March, and
we are to run over to New York for six weeks. Bennett told me yesterday
that it was decided."

Hilda looked up delightedly at the tall gray figure beside her. He
was the only thing she could see, for they were moving through a dense
opaqueness, as if they were walking at the bottom of the ocean.

"Oh, Mac, how glad I am! And they love your things over there, don't
they?"

"Shall you be glad for--any other reason, Hilda?"

MacConnell put his hand in front of her to ward off some dark object. It
proved to be only a lamp-post, and they beat in farther from the edge of
the pavement.

"What do you mean, Mac?" Hil