And Sybil threw her arms about the actress's waist, crying: "May I tell you? Will you listen?" A moment's pause; then, with a swiftly clouding face, she continued: "But, what's the use, you will not understand my trouble! If death had robbed me--if a lover had deserted me--any great disaster would touch your heart! But you, who are rich, successful, secure, cannot be expected to understand the shame, the humiliation, the suffering caused by mere poverty! And yet, it is genteel poverty that is crushing out the lives of all those who are dear to me! That is my trouble, but," she let her arms drop heavily away from the waist they had clasped, "you cannot understand!" Claire Morrell stood tall in her soft amber gown, looking down into the troubled eyes lifted to her face. A half quizzical, half tender smile was on her lips. "You must not jump so hastily to your conclusions, Miss Lawton," she said. "I am very comfortable now, it is true. I have sufficient to eat, to wear, but I have known the time when I had neither." As Sybil's eyes widened, she went on: "You think you know poverty? Well, have you ever wandered about the city streets, clinging to the fingers of a mother who staggered with weakness, while she searched for work--for shelter? Have you felt the pinch of cold, the gnawing, the actual pangs of hunger? Once Death and I were kept apart by a single slice of bread. I think you may go on, my dear, for I have matriculated, and can well understand. Thank you, dear!" For Sybil had caught the speaker's hand, and, with quick sympathy, had pressed it to her lips. And as the actress sank down beside her, on the dark red cushions, Sybil poured forth all the story of her early luxury, her aimless education, their ever-deepening poverty, the isolation of her sister and herself, her mother's obstinate determination not to let them work, confessing even to her own dark thoughts and wicked threats, should this one hope be taken from her. "For, you see," said she, "I can do nothing else--nothing, _nothing_! But I am young, I have intelligence, I have good common sense. I don't expect ever to be a crowned queen of the stage, but might not I be one of the little people that are required in so many plays? I think I might, for, oh, Miss Morrell, I do believe I could act!" And noticing the swift play of expression on the vivid young face before her, that lady answered, quietly: "Yes, and I believe so, too." Sybil clasped her hands, fairly gasping the words: "You will help me, then?"