“Oh, yes, we’re just beginning. We’re on Broadway at eleven.” “Where?” “First at _Pastern’s_, then at the _Castle_.” These places were just without the orbit of extravagance. She knew her answer was not exactly a stock-raiser, and added: “But I expect to be on the road in the Spring----” “Who with?” She mentioned a light opera troupe that was just short of broad and unqualified approval--like _Brandt’s_ and _Pastern’s_--an institution as yet without that mysterious toppiness which needs no props and meets sanction anywhere. These things are exactly ordered. “But you are so good--you should be with people who would help you.” She looked at him a little scornfully, something of weather and stress under the summer hat. She decided to be agreeable. “They all say that,” she said wearily. “I’m sorry. I said just what I thought.” “Study--a girl without a cent!” She lowered her voice: “Go with better people--before one is invited? Swing to the top of the opera before one is sufficiently urged?... Why, singing isn’t all. One must do more than sing----” “I don’t believe that----” “You should try. Singing won’t get you across. You’ve got to act, for one thing.” He was relieved that she did not discuss the angel business, which is forgotten in so few stories of struggle and failure. “I tell you, all that one has to do is to sing--when one sings as you do.” “I have heard that many times,” she said bitterly, “from people not in the fight. They didn’t come to New York on their nerve--as I did. I made up my mind not to be afraid of wolves or bears or cars--to take what I could get, and wait until somebody beckoned me higher. Meanwhile _Pastern’s_ and the _Castle_ and here----” “I wish I could do something for you.” Her eyes gleamed at him. “You need money?” he asked. “I need money so terribly--that it’s almost a joke--but what do _you_ want?” Bellair rubbed his eyes, and smiled a little. “I don’t know what’s the matter with me, but I want to do something for you. At least, I did want just that.” “What happened?” “It isn’t a thing to talk or think about, I’m afraid. One starts thinking, and ends by wanting something--and I didn’t at first. What I said at first I meant--nothing more nor less.” Her lips tightened. “If you mean just that----” It raked him within. He did not help her by speaking. Somehow he had expected her to see that he had meant well. It was always a mystery to him how anything fine could be expected of men, if women were not so. “Of course, I have to understand,” she added. “I can do with a poor room and poor food, but I can’t get anywhere without clothes.... I must go now.” “I want you to excuse me if I’ve given you the idea of my being rich. I’m not, but I might help you some. How late do you work?” “One o’clock.” “Where are you last?” “At the _Castle_.” “And what time do you get there?” “About eleven-thirty.” “I’ll be there. Sing ‘_Maying_’ for an encore----” She made believe that she trusted him.