cing mood had vanished in the
face of sundry twinges of pride. Jack Fyfe hadn't asked her to come
back; he never would ask her to come back. Of that she was quite sure.
She knew the stony determination of him too well. Neither hope or
heaven nor fear of hell would turn him aside when he had made a
decision. If he ever had moments of irresolution, he had successfully
concealed any such weakness from those who knew him best. No one ever
felt called upon to pity Jack Fyfe, and in those rocked-ribbed
qualities, Stella had an illuminating flash, perhaps lay the secret of
his failure ever to stir in her that yearning tenderness which she knew
herself to be capable of lavishing, which her nature impelled her to
lavish on some one.

"Ah, well," she sighed, when she came back to her rooms and put Fyfe's
letter away in a drawer. "I'll do the decent thing if they ask me. I
wonder what Jack would say if he knew what I've been debating with
myself this afternoon? I wonder if we were actually divorced and I'd
made myself a reputation as a singer, and we happened to meet quite
casually sometime, somewhere, just how we'd really feel about each
other?"

She was still musing on that, in a detached, impersonal fashion, when
she caught a car down to the theater for the matinee.

CHAPTER XXI

AN UNEXPECTED MEETING

The formally worded wedding card arrived in due course. Following close
came a letter from Linda Abbey, a missive that radiated friendliness and
begged Stella to come a week before the date.

"You're going to be pretty prominent in the public eye when you sing
here," Linda wrote. "People are going to make a to-do over you. Ever
so many have mentioned you since the announcement was made that
you'll sing at the Granada concerts. I'm getting a lot of reflected
glory as the future sister-in-law of a rising singer. So you may as
well come and get your hand into the social game in preparation for
being fussed over in July."

In the same mail was a characteristic note from Charlie which ran:

"_Dear Sis:_

"As the Siwashes say, long time I see you no. I might have dropped a
line before, but you know what a punk correspondent I am. They tell
me you're becoming a real noise musically. How about it?

"Can't you break away from the fame and fortune stuff long enough to
be on hand when Linda and I get married? I wasn't invited to your
wedding, but I'd like to have y