"Give you my word! I said to myself then and there: 'Here's a little woman worth watching, and if ever I get a chance to lend her a helping hand and don't do it, I'd better quit fussing with this theatrical game.' And that was the effect of seeing you play just once, mind you!" "I'm afraid you're a dreadful kidder, Mr. Marbridge." His injured look was eloquent of the injustice that she did him. "You don't believe me? Very well, Miss Thursday--wait! Some day I'll surprise you." He swung back in his chair, smiling genially. "Some one of these days you'll set your heart on something I have the say in--and then you'll be able to judge of my sincerity." "If I dared believe you," Joan told him boldly, "I might put you to the test sooner than you think." "Well, and why not? I'm ready." But as Joan would have gone on, the desk-telephone rang sharply, and Marbridge, excusing himself with a mumbled apology, turned to the instrument and lifted the receiver to his ear. "Hello.... Who?... Oh, send her in to see Mr. Arlington.... Oh, he did, eh?... Well, say I'm not in either.... Yes, gone for the day." Replacing the instrument, he swung round again. "There's proof already," he informed her cheerfully. "That was Nella Cardrow--one of the biggest propositions on our list--star of 'Mrs. Mixer.' And I'm putting her off solely to show you how sincerely I'm interested in what you have to say to me." He bent forward again, confidentially. "Now tell me: what can I do for you?" "Give me a job," Joan informed him honestly. "That's all I want just now--work--a part in anything you have influence with." "Then you _have_ left 'The Lie'?" Marbridge persisted incredulously. Joan nodded. "I had to. I couldn't stand it any longer." "But--without you--why, I don't know what they were thinking of, to let you go!" "I just couldn't get along with the star, and that's all there was to it," Joan declared. "He was a boozer and--well, I had to quit." "And the sketch--" "Oh, it went on, all right, I guess." "Without you! Well, that's hard to credit. However...." Marbridge leaned back and for a moment stared thoughtfully out of the window. "I really can't think of anything we've got open just now that's good enough to offer you." "Please don't think of me that way, Mr. Marbridge," Joan pleaded earnestly, more than half deceived. "I'm ready for anything, to get a chance to show these people what I can do. Anything--however small--just so it gives me a show--I don't care what!" Marbridge preserved admirably his look of intent gravity. "Let me think a moment," he requested, pursing his full lips. Joan watched him closely through that brief silence, her mood one of curious texture, compounded in almost equal parts of hope and doubt, of wonder and misgivings, of appreciation of her own courage and shrewdness, and of admiration for Marbridge.