Then Jules roused himself. He felt as if he had been in a dream. He had difficulty in reaching Blanche's dressing-room, for the crowd had gathered at the entrance to the ring in order to catch another glimpse of the dripping figure of the diver. When finally he succeeded in making his way there, he found Blanche sitting motionless, her arms resting on the table. He at once divined the cause of her dejection. "You see what you've brought on yourself," he said. "A lot you'll amount to now! You might as well give up the business." Madeleine looked at him with mild reproach in her eyes. He paid no attention to her, however. He walked back to the door, and turning, he added: "But you can't stay here all night. I thought you'd be dressed by this time. I'll wait out here for you." Jules looked anxiously up and down the corridor, but he saw no one. He could hear the noise of the crowd slowly wending out of the Hippodrome, and from the dressing-rooms on either side the buzz of voices. Miss King must have succeeded in making her escape to her room. XIX If Jules had tried, he would have been unable to explain the fascination that Lottie King's performance had for him. In daring it was greatly inferior to his wife's plunge; but the fact that Blanche had lost courage lent her rival's serene indifference to danger an added attractiveness for him. Every night he watched her with more delight. Besides being plucky and skilful, she was so pretty and so amusing! Jules liked to talk with her in the evening before she made her appearance, and she used to convulse him with laughter by her sallies. She soon fell into the habit of running into Blanche's room to ask Madeleine to do services for her, and toward Blanche she adopted a manner of half-amused patronage. By the end of the first week, Blanche had conceived a great dislike for her. This might have been at least partly due to her discovery of the pleasure which Jules took in the diver's society. Mrs. Tate had expected that, after ceasing to make her plunge, Blanche would improve in health; but she speedily saw that she was mistaken. One afternoon she called at the hotel in Albemarle Street and found Blanche alone with the little Jeanne; Madeleine had just gone out to do some errands. They had a long talk, during which Blanche was obliged to confess that the pain in her back troubled her just as much as ever, and that she was very unhappy. When Mrs. Tate tried to find out why she was unhappy, she could elicit no satisfactory explanation. As soon as she arrived home that night, she repeated the conversation to her husband. "Do you suppose the little creature can be mercenary, Percy?" she said. "Do you think she can be sorry she isn't risking her neck every day? I wanted to tell her this morning she ought to be ashamed of herself--she ought to think of her child. Suppose she had been killed! What would have become of the child, _I'd_ like to know!"