"Of course you've heard about her latest affair with that Italian opera singer.... Well, I caught her with the goods this time.... For the sake of the children I'm letting her get the divorce...." He left off frowning and contemplated me with an amused smile. "Say, little woman, you did put it all over me there in Cincinnati, didn't you?... I suppose you're wondering how I got wise to it? Well, I wrung the confession out of her; I wouldn't let her get the divorce until she told me the truth, and then I checked it up through her sister, who's a pretty good sort.... All my life I've had a deep-rooted respect for a game sport.... When I look at that pretty little face of yours and think of the job you cooked up at a moment's notice--well, I take off my hat to you, that's all!... Look here, little woman: if anything ever goes wrong between you and handsome Bill--and by Gad! I thought it had when I saw you on the stage to-night--if ever you need a friend, just tap the wires. There's my club address ... and, little lady--don't be afraid that I'll ask anything in return--do you follow me? I'm not any better than the rest of my kind, but I think I know the real thing when I meet it." While donning my wraps in the cloak-room some time later, I was surprised to see my little friend Leila enter and present her coat-check to the maid. She flushed a little in surprise as she greeted me: "Why, Mrs. Hartley! I didn't know you were here! Where were you sitting? Why didn't you tell me you were coming?" "I didn't know myself. I found an old acquaintance waiting, and of course he wanted to see 'where the soubrettes hang out.'" "How funny! My coming was unexpected, too. I'll tell you all about it to-morrow." She hurried away, a little eagerly, I thought. As I passed out in response to a beckon from Mr. F. I saw Leila being helped into a handsome fur coat. I told myself it was none of my business; that Leila knew perfectly well what she was doing and that any amount of advice from me would not only not be acted upon, but would be resented. Already she avoided me. To my pleadings that I was lonely--would she not dine with me at my home?--she responded with ever-ready but piffling excuses and subterfuges. I would see her emerge from her dressing-room after the performance, prettily dressed, get into a waiting taxicab and be whirled away. The situation preyed on my mind. Once I took courage in both hands and called at her lodging-house only to be told that Miss Moore had moved away a month since. I got the new address from the back-door keeper, and when my little friend was out of the cast through illness I seized the opportunity to call on her.