Having closed the outside door, she moved before him into a small drawing-room which adjoined the entry-hall on the left, and when he had followed shut its door with particular care. "Sara's still packing," she explained, turning to Arlington. "Well?" He hesitated, looking her over with a doubtful eye. But she was, at least outwardly, quite cool and collected, her manner exhibiting no undue amount of anxiety. Still, a certain amount of make-believe would seem no more than decent.... "Look here," he said almost sharply--"you're feeling all right, eh?" "Quite--only tired as a dog; and naturally--" "I understand," he interrupted. "But you'll be fit to go on tonight, you think?" "Don't worry about that," Joan advised him decidedly. "I'm hoping to get a nap before evening, but even if I don't, I know the first duty of an actress is always to her public." "Yes," Arlington agreed briefly, avoiding her eyes.... "Still, I must ask you to be prepared." Joan's figure stiffened slightly, and her dark eyes widened. "Dead?" she questioned in a low voice. Arlington nodded. "I'm sorry.... About half an hour after we got him home." The girl sat down suddenly and buried her face in her hands. "Oh!" she cried in a stifled voice--"how awful!" "There!" Arlington moved over and rested a hand familiarly on her shoulder. "Brace up. You'll forget all about this before long." "O no--never!" she moaned through her fingers. "But you will," he insisted, looking down at her with an odd expression. "To begin with, I'm going to make it my business to see that you forget. You must. You can't do justice to your--genius, if you keep harping on this accident. It wasn't your fault, you know. Just as soon as I've arranged a few details.... By the way, how's the Cardrow woman?" "Asleep," Joan answered. "She hasn't made a bit of trouble since the doctor gave her that dope--whatever it was." "Good. He'll be along presently with a nurse he can trust. And by that time I'll have you out of the way. I know just the place for you, a little flat uptown, on Fifty-ninth Street, overlooking the Park. You'll be very quiet and comfortable there, and near the theatre besides." "I'm glad of that. I was thinking, of course, I'd have to go to some hotel ... and I didn't want to." "And quite natural. You want to be alone until you feel yourself again.... I'll find you a good maid, and make everything smooth for you. You're not to fret about anything, and if you're troubled you must come right to me." "You're awf'ly kind." "Don't look at it that way, please." "How can I ever thank you?" "Oh, we'll talk that over some other time." Arlington removed his hand from her shoulder and went back to the table, upon which he had deposited a bundle of newspapers. "There's no doubt of your success," he pursued soothingly. "Your notices are the finest I've seen in years. I brought you the lot of them in case you care--"