"I have no influence, and very little money, and I don't really know that I've got any special talent," declared this applicant for stage honours, making no attempt to conceal the true state of affairs. Mr. Cuthbert shook his head portentously. "That is not a very hopeful prospect," he declared. "Haven't you got a voice? There's a piano yonder. Let's hear what you can do." Evarne in her turn shook her head. "I'm afraid I can't sing," she said regretfully. "I've never had my voice trained at all." A momentary silence seized the party. "Perhaps you can dance?" suggested Margaret Macclesfield, hopefully. "Only ordinary ballroom dances." "That's no go," and a silence still more melancholy, more profound, held sway. "There's no place for you on the halls, then. Perhaps you'd do all right in legitimate drama. Can you recite something?" "I'm afraid I don't know anything dramatic," Evarne was obliged to confess, her cheeks growing pinker. "I don't know much poetry at all, and what I have learnt from time to time are only pretty little bits that have taken my fancy." "Dear me----" Mr. Cuthbert was recommencing, when his wife broke in-- "Don't you do it, my dear. It's a dreadful profession for them as haven't got the gifts. It's a grinding, killing business. I'd as soon see a girl of mine in her grave." "The old lady isn't far wrong," agreed Mr. Cuthbert. "You take my advice, Miss Stornway, and try something else." "But," declared Evarne despairingly, "whatever I tried it would be just the same. I--I'm not properly qualified for anything. It's not my fault, but there it is! I didn't think of the stage when I found I'd got to earn my own living, but now it has been suggested to me I feel sure I stand a better chance of earning money quickly that way than any other." "You've got a real beautiful face, if you don't mind my being personal," said Margaret. "Perhaps you might get a thinking part, right enough--or there's pantomime. You're tall, aren't you? If you've got good legs and a fine figure----What's your waist?" Yet once again Evarne was compelled to shake her head apologetically. "I'm afraid----" she started, then stopped abruptly. However, frankness seemed to prevail here, so she continued after an imperceptible pause. "I don't think I've got what you mean by a fine figure. I need very careful and special dressing to look really nice. You see, I don't wear corsets, and so----" "My dear!" interrupted both ladies simultaneously, "how can you manage without?" "Well, I was brought up to it," explained the girl hastily. "I should feel as if I'd got no backbone." "I couldn't keep up. I should flop." "But you can wear some now if you like." "That's exactly what I can't do. I tried once, quite seriously, and it made me ill--really ill--and I don't suppose it gets any easier to change one's habits as one gets older." Mrs. Cuthbert flourished her hands despairingly.