At this juncture, the hall door swung wide, and Tottie appeared, head high with suppressed excitement, and face alive with curiosity. "Here's another caller, Miss Crosby," she announced. At her back was Sue. Clare retreated, frowning. Sue, breathless from hurrying, and embarrassed, halted, panting and smiling, in the doorway. "Oh, dear! This dress never was meant for anything faster than a wedding-march!"--this with that characteristic look--the look of a child discovered in naughtiness, and entreating forgiveness. "Say, ain't you pop'lar!" broke in Tottie, shaking her head at Clare in playful envy. And to Sue, "Y' know, all my theatrical friends 're just crazy about her. They'll hate to see her go." "Go?" repeated Sue, sobering. "Tottie!" cried Clare, angrily. "Please! Never mind!" Peremptorily she pointed her to leave. Tottie, having accomplished her purpose, grinned a good-natured assent. "All right, dearie,"--once more she was playing the fine lady, for the edification of this new arrival so well worth impressing. "I call this my rehearsal room," she informed, with a polite titter. "Pretty idea, ain't it? Well,"--with a sweeping bow all around--"make yourselves to home." She went out, one jeweled hand raised ostentatiously to her back hair. There was a moment's pause; then Sue held out an impulsive hand to the younger woman. "Oh, you're not going to leave without seeing him," she implored. "Who do you mean?"--sullenly. "Alan Farvel." Clare's eyes flashed. "Does he know you came?" "No." Clare turned to Wallace. "Does your sister know my real name?" she asked. His pale face worked in a spasm. He coughed and swallowed. "N-n-no," he stammered. "Now--just--wait--a--minute!" It was Balcome. He approached near enough to Wallace to slap him smartly on the shoulder with the hat. "You--told--me----" "What does it matter?" argued the other. "One name's as good as another." Balcome said no more. But he exchanged a look with Sue. She glanced from Clare to Wallace, puzzled and troubled. Then, "I--I--don't know what this is all about," she ventured, "and I don't want to know. I just want to tell you, Miss Crosby, that--that he grieves for you--terribly. Oh, see him again! Forgive him if he's done anything! Give him another chance!" "You're talking about something you don't understand," answered Clare, rudely. Sue shook her head. "Well, I think I know a broken heart when I see one," she returned simply. To that, Clare made no reply. "These gentlemen are going," she said. "And I wish you'd go too." "Then I can't help him--and you?" In sudden rage, Clare came toward her, voice raised almost to a shout. "Help! Help! Help!" she mocked. "I don't want help! I want to be let alone!--And I can't waste any more time. You'll have to excuse me!" She faced about abruptly and disappeared into her own room, banging the door.