1.

　　The lobby of the Hotel Cosmopolis is the exact center of New York,the spot where at certain hours one is sure of meeting everybody oneknows. The first person that Nelly and Freddie saw, as they passedthrough the swing doors, was Jill. She was seated on the chair by thebig pillar in the middle of the hall.

　　"What ho!" said Freddie. "Waiting for someone?""Hullo, Freddie. Yes, I'm waiting for Wally Mason. I got a note fromhim this morning, asking me to meet him here. I'm a little early. Ihaven't congratulated you yet. You're wonderful!""Thanks, old girl. Our young hero is making pretty hefty strides inhis chosen profesh, what! Mr Rooke, who appears quite simple andunspoiled by success, replied to our representative's enquiry as tohis future plans that he proposed to stagger into the grill-room andimbibe about eighteen dollars' worth of lunch. Yes, it is a bit ofall right, taking it by and large, isn't it? I mean to say, thesalary, the jolly old salary, you know . . . quite a help when afellow's lost all his money!"Jill was surprised to observe that the Last of the Rookes wascontorting his face in an unsightly manner that seemed to be anattempt at a wink, pregnant with hidden meaning. She took her cuedutifully, though without understanding.

　　"Oh, yes," she replied.

　　Freddie seemed grateful. With a cordial "Cheerio!" he led Nelly offto the grill-room.

　　"I didn't know Jill knew Mr Mason," said Nelly, as they sat down attheir table.

　　"No?" said Freddie absently, running an experienced eye over thebill-of-fare. He gave an elaborate order. "What was that? Oh,absolutely! Jill and I and Wally were children together.""How funny you should all be together again like this.""Yes. Oh, good Lord!""What's the matter?""It's nothing. I meant to send a cable to a pal of mine in England.

　　I'll send it after lunch."Freddie took out his handkerchief, and tied a knot in it. He wasslightly ashamed of the necessity of taking such a precaution, but itwas better to be on the safe side. His interview with Jill at thetheatre had left him with the conviction that there was only onething for him to do, and that was to cable poor old Derek to forgetimpending elections and all the rest of it and pop over to America atonce. He knew that he would never have the courage to re-open thematter with Jill himself. As an ambassador he was a spent force. IfJill was to be wooed from her mood of intractability, Derek was theonly man to do it. Freddie was convinced that, seeing him in person,she would melt and fall into his arms. Too dashed absurd, Freddiefelt, two loving hearts being separated like this and all that sortof thing. He replaced his handkerchief in his pocket, relieved, andconcentrated himself on the entertainment of Nelly. A simple task,for, the longer he was with this girl, the easier did it seem to talkto her.

　　Jill, left alone in the lobby, was finding the moments pass quitepleasantly. She liked watching the people as they came in. One or twoof the girls of the company fluttered in like birds, were swoopedupon by their cavaliers, and fluttered off to the grill-room. Thered-headed Babe passed her with a genial nod, and, shortly after,Lois Denham, the willowy recipient of sunbursts from her friend Izzyof the hat-checks, came by in company with a sallow, hawk-faced youngman with a furtive eye, whom Jill took--correctly--to be Izzyhimself. Lois was looking pale and proud, and from the few wordswhich came to Jill's ears as they neared her, seemed to be annoyed athaving been kept waiting.

　　It was immediately after this that the swing-doors revolved rathermore violently than usual, and Mr Goble burst into view.

　　There was a cloud upon Mr Goble's brow, seeming to indicate that hisgrievance against life had not yet been satisfactorily adjusted: butit passed as he saw Jill, and he came up to her with what he wouldprobably have claimed to be an ingratiating smile.

　　"Hello!" said Mr Goble. "All alone?"Jill was about to say that the condition was merely temporary whenthe manager went on.

　　"Come and have a bit of lunch.""Thank you very much," said Jill, with the politeness of dislike,"but I'm waiting for someone.""Chuck him!" advised Mr Goble cordially.

　　"No, thanks, I couldn't, really."The cloud began to descend again upon Mr Goble's brow. He wasaccustomed to having these invitations of his treated as royalcommands.

　　"Come along!""I'm afraid it's impossible."Mr Goble subjected her to a prolonged stare, seemed about to speak,changed his mind, and swung off moodily in the direction of thegrill-room. He was not used to this sort of treatment.

　　He had hardly gone, when Wally appeared.

　　"What was he saying to you?" demanded Wally abruptly, withoutpreliminary greeting.

　　"He was asking me to lunch."Wally was silent for a moment. His good-natured face wore an unwontedscowl.

　　"He went in there, of course?" he said, pointing to the grill-room.

　　"Yes.""Then let's go into the other room," said Wally. He regained hisgood-humor. "It was awfully good of you to come. I didn't knowwhether you would be able to.""It was very nice of you to invite me."Wally grinned.

　　"How perfect our manners are! It's a treat to listen! How did youknow that that was the one hat in New York I wanted you to wear?""Oh, these things get about. Do you like it?""It's wonderful. Let's take this table, shall we?"2.

　　They sat down. The dim, tapestry-hung room soothed Jill. She wasfeeling a little tired after the rehearsal. At the far end of theroom an orchestra was playing a tune that she remembered and liked.

　　Her mind went back to the last occasion on which she and Wally hadsat opposite each other at a restaurant. How long ago it seemed! Shereturned to the present to find Wally speaking to her.

　　"You left very suddenly the other night," said Wally.

　　"I didn't want to meet Freddie."Wally looked at her commiseratingly.

　　"I don't want to spoil your lunch," he said, "but Freddie knows all.

　　He has tracked you down. He met Nelly Bryant, whom he seems to havemade friends with in London, and she told him where you were and whatyou were doing. For a girl who fled at his mere approach the nightbefore last, you don't seem very agitated by the news," he said, asJill burst into a peal of laughter.

　　"You haven't heard?""Heard what?""Freddie got Mr Pilkington to put him in the chorus of the piece. Hewas rehearsing when I arrived at the theatre this morning, and havinga terrible time with Mr Miller. And, later on, Mr Goble had a quarrelwith the man who was playing the Englishman, and the man threw up hispart and Mr Goble said he could get any one in the chorus to play itjust as well, and he chose Freddie. So now Freddie is one of theprincipals, and bursting with pride!"Wally threw his head back and uttered a roar of appreciation whichcaused a luncher at a neighboring table to drop an oyster which hewas poising in mid-air.

　　"Don't make such a noise!" said Jill severely. "Everyone's looking atyou.""I must! It's the most priceless thing I ever heard. I've alwaysmaintained and I always will maintain that for pure lunacy nothingcan touch the musical comedy business. There isn't anything thatcan't happen in musical comedy. 'Alice in Wonderland' is nothing toit.""Have you felt that, too? That's exactly how I feel. It's like aperpetual 'Mad Hatter's Tea-Party.'""But what on earth made Freddie join the company at all?"A sudden gravity descended upon Jill. The words had reminded her ofthe thing which she was perpetually striving to keep out of herthoughts.

　　"He said he wanted to be there to keep an eye on me."Gravity is infectious. Wally's smile disappeared. He, too, had beenrecalled to thoughts which were not pleasant.

　　Wally crumbled his roll. There was a serious expression on his face.

　　"Freddie was quite right. I didn't think he had so much sense.""Freddie was not right," flared Jill. The recollection of herconversation with that prominent artist still had the power to fireher independent soul. "I'm not a child. I can look after myself. WhatI do is my own business.""I'm afraid you're going to find that your business is severalpeople's business. I am interested in it myself. I don't like yourbeing on the stage. Now bite my head off!""It's very kind of you to bother about me . . .""I said 'Bite my head off!' I didn't say 'Freeze me!' I take thelicense of an old friend who in his time has put worms down yourback, and I repeat--I don't like your being on the stage.""I shouldn't have thought you would have been so"--Jill sought for adevastating adjective--"so mid-Victorian!""As far as you are concerned, I'm the middest Victorian in existence.

　　Mid is my middle name." Wally met her indignant gaze squarely.

　　"I-do-not-like-your-being-on-the-stage! Especially in any companywhich Ike Goble is running.""Why Mr Goble particularly?""Because he is not the sort of man you ought to be coming in contactwith.""What nonsense!""It isn't nonsense at all. I suppose you've read a lot about themorals of theatrical managers . . .""Yes. And it seemed to be exaggerated and silly.""So it is. There's nothing wrong with most of them. As a generalthing, they are very decent fellows,--extraordinarily decent if youthink of the position they are in. I don't say that in a business waythere's much they won't try to put over on you. In the theatre, whenit comes to business, everything goes except biting and gouging.

　　'There's never a law of God or man runs north of fifty-three.' If youalter that to 'north of Forty-first Street,' it doesn't scan as well,but it's just as true. Perhaps it would be more accurate to say thatthe Golden Rule is suspended there. You get used to it after you havebeen in the theatre for awhile, and, except for leaving your watchand pocketbook at home when you have to pay a call on a manager andkeeping your face to him so that he can't get away with your backcollar-stud, you don't take any notice of it. It's all a game. If amanager swindles you, he wins the hole and takes the honor. If youfoil him, you are one up. In either case, it makes no difference tothe pleasantness of your relations. You go on calling him by hisfirst name, and he gives you a couple of cigars out of his waistcoatpocket and says you're a good kid. There is nothing personal in it.

　　He has probably done his best friend out of a few thousand dollarsthe same morning, and you see them lunching together after theceremony as happily as possible. You've got to make allowances formanagers. They are the victims of heredity. When a burglar marries ahat-check girl, their offspring goes into the theatrical businessautomatically, and he can't shake off the early teaching which heimbibed at his father's knee. But morals . . ."Wally broke off to allow the waiter to place a fried sole before him.

　　Waiters always select the moment when we are talking our best tointrude themselves.

　　"As regards morals," resumed Wally, "that is a different matter. Mostmanagers are respectable, middle-aged men with wives and families.

　　They are in the business to make money, and they don't want anythingelse out of it. The girls in their companies are like so many clerksto them, just machines that help to bring the money in. They don'tknow half a dozen of them to speak to. But our genial Ike is not likethat." Wally consumed a mouthful of sole. "Ike Goble is a badcitizen. He paws! He's a slinker and a prowler and a leerer. He's apest and a worm! He's fat and soft and flabby. He has a greasy soul,a withered heart, and an eye like a codfish. Not knocking him, ofcourse!" added Wally magnanimously. "Far be it from me to knockanyone! But, speaking with the u............