unt herself untalented nor a girl to be lightly valued, and
Sir Lucien might prove to be less black than rumor had painted him. As
presently appeared, both in her judgment of herself and in that of Sir
Lucien, she was at least partially correct. He was very courteous, very
respectful, and highly attentive.

Her less favored companions smiled significantly when the familiar
Rolls-Royce appeared at the stage door night after night, never doubting
that Rita Dresden was chosen to "star" in the forthcoming production,
but, with rare exceptions, frankly envying her this good fortune.

Rita made no attempt to disillusion them, recognizing that it must fail.
She was resigned to being misjudged. If she could achieve success at
that price, success would have been purchased cheaply.

That Sir Lucien was deeply infatuated she was not slow to discover, and
with an address perfected by experience and a determination to avoid the
easy path inherited from a father whose scrupulous honesty had ruined
his professional prospects, she set to work to win esteem as well as
admiration.

Sir Lucien was first surprised, then piqued, and finally interested by
such unusual tactics. The second phase was the dangerous one for Rita,
and during a certain luncheon at Romanos her fate hung in the balance.
Sir Lucien realized that he was in peril of losing his head over this
tantalizingly pretty girl who gracefully kept him at a distance, fencing
with an adroitness which was baffling, and Sir Lucien Pyne had set out
with no intention of doing anything so preposterous as falling in love.
Keenly intuitive, Rita scented danger and made a bold move. Carelessly
rolling a bread-crumb along the cloth:

"I am giving up the stage when the run finishes," she said.

"Indeed," replied Sir Lucien imperturbably. "Why?"

"I am tired of stage life. I have been invited to go and live with my
uncle in New York and have decided to accept. You see"--she bestowed
upon him a swift glance of her brilliant eyes--"men in the theatrical
world are not all like you. Real friends, I mean. It isn't very nice,
sometimes."

Sir Lucien deliberately lighted a cigarette. If Rita was bluffing, he
mused, she had the pluck to make good her bluff. And if she did so? He
dropped the extinguished match upon a plate. Did he care? He glanced at
the girl, who was smiling at an acquaintance on the other side of
the room. Fortune's wheel spins upon a needle point. By an artistic
performance