to--to see about--" Miss
Lindsey was faltering with the embarrassment of those who are both proud
and hungry, when food is offered them socially.

"Nonsense! You are coming over to the Claridge with Miss Adair and me
for a bite. Then you can come back by here and see Dolph.--Dolph, make
out a check for Miss Lindsey's advance. Shall we say one or two hundred,
Miss Lindsey?" Dennis Farraday was in his element when doing the breezy
protective to two girls at once.

"One hundred, please," answered Miss Lindsey, with color mounting to her
cheeks that underpainted that already there. She smiled with amusement
at the surprise that manifested itself for an instant on the round face
of Mr. Meyers that an actress should not "grab" all offered her and then
plead for more. "But I really do feel that I had better not--go to
luncheon, for I am--"

"Please do! I'd rather you would," the eminent author urged, and she
clung to the show girl in a way that showed Dennis Farraday, accustomed
to the women of her world, that vague proprieties were hovering beside
the gates that were opening for Patricia from her old world into her
new.

"You'll have to come, Miss Lindsey, to celebrate, or we shall think you
are not all for the play," Mr. Farraday said with a finality in his
voice that settled the matter.

And the three of them scudded along a few blocks of the sun-steamed
streets into the coolness of the Claridge, also into the heart of a
situation that had been seething for an hour between Mr. Godfrey
Vandeford and Miss Violet Hawtry.

"How wonderful of you, Van dear, to find me such a play at the eleventh
and three-quarters hour!" had been the volley that Violet had fired at
him.

"Glad you like it," he had parried, feeling sure that she was jockeying
with him for position for the clinch.

"Dennis Farraday told me that you were backing my emotional handling
even more than my comedy scenes. Could you for once be playing square
with me and really looking forward to my development in getting
this--this rather remarkable kind of a play for me?"

"I've done my best for you for five years, Violet," he quietly answered
the insult, as he looked across the empty white tables that stretched
away from Violet's favorite and reserved seat in the black and gold
dining-room.

"'Miss Cut-up,' for instance?"

"There were several ways to put that play across. You had your way in
every particular. Mine might have succeeded," was his calm answ