Miss West had dyed her hair a new color since their last meeting, but the dye was wearing off; her face was thin and ghastly, her gloves were in holes, her dress was more haphazard than ever, and her whole appearance suggestive of hard times and even of scanty fare. She greeted Annie with her old loud geniality. “Ah, Miss Langton, you’re up, and I’m down! I hardly dared to come and call upon such a howling swell as you have become. You are not sorry to see an old friend though, I see.” “I am very sorry to see you looking so ill, though,” said Annie, sincerely. “You used not to look like that in the country. You want change of air.” “No, no, my dear; you’re wrong there. No actress wants change of air when once she’s got to London. It’s an engagement I want. I’ve been out for six weeks, and see no prospect of being in again. I don’t know whether you can help me; but I’ve come to ask your advice on one or two matters.” “I will come in and see you presently, Annie,” said Stephen, going toward the door. “I have nothing much to say to you, and I came chiefly to see whether you had any commissions for me.” “Yes, yes, I have! I have a letter for you to take, and I want to see you most particularly. Come back and have tea with me, will you?” He promised to do so; and Annie, who was dying to hear all he had to tell her about her husband, was obliged reluctantly to let him go, and to listen instead to the long list of grievances and complaints against London managers and things in general which Miss West proceeded to entertain her with in language much stronger than was necessary. Annie had noticed upon her first entrance that Stephen and Miss West were in animated converse, and that the former seemed very much engrossed by his companion. He now turned with eagerness to her again, and asked whether he should have the pleasure of meeting her on his return. But Annie did not invite Miss West to stay to tea. So he left, casting at the very last moment an ardent and expressive glance at the object of his evident admiration. The two women had not been many minutes alone together before Annie discovered that the real object of her visitor was to discover whether her more prosperous fellow-artist could oblige her with a loan. Annie had some money to spare, and could not refuse, especially as she felt that fate had been capricious in giving her a good engagement and the chance she had pined for, while Miss West, who she felt was really the greater actress of the two, was out of work and restlessly longing for an opportunity of distinction, as she herself had so long been. Miss West had not been gone more than a few minutes when Stephen returned, and Annie asked anxiously for news of Harry, which his cousin seemed chary of imparting to her. “Can’t you tell me where he is and how he is, Stephen?” she asked impatiently.