"I wouldn't stand for it," she said, "so he gave me two weeks' notice, on the pretext that the author didn't like me in the part. He knew he was lying--my notices were fine! Such a time as I had with him! I made a hit on the opening night. He came back on the stage and invited me to supper. As he talked of signing with me for five years, I didn't dare refuse. At supper he let me understand what the price would be. I instantly rose from the table and told him I wasn't that kind of a girl. Then he got mad. He told me to think well before I made the mistake of my life. He said no girls got along on the stage unless they consented to these conditions, and that if I refused I would be blacklisted by every manager in town. I didn't even deign to answer. I called a cab and left him. The following day I got my walking papers. I did not care so much about leaving the company. Under the circumstances I couldn't have stayed and retained my self respect. I laughed at his threat, but I've since found it was no idle one. I've been turned down everywhere." Her companion, an older woman, more sophisticated and more worldly, shook her head sympathetically: "Nonsense, child, that's only a coincidence. It's preposterous to imagine for a moment that reputable managers would lend themselves to anything of the kind. You happened to come across a scoundrel--that's all. Broadway's full of such human vultures--more's the pity--and they're giving the stage a bad name. But a woman doesn't have to be bad unless she wants to be. Maybe advancement is quicker by the easiest way, but the good girls get there just the same, if they've talent. Look at the women who have succeeded on the stage and whose name not a breath of scandal has ever touched. Take, for instance, Maude----" Before she could complete the name, the door of Mr. Quiller's sanctum opened, and a young woman emerged, followed to the threshold by the dramatic agent, a jaundiced little man, with ferret-like eyes, and a greasy frock coat. "Next!" he exclaimed in a rasping voice. "Miss Durant!" called out the office boy. The woman whose warm championship of the stage had been so abruptly interrupted, rose with alacrity and disappeared behind Mr. Quiller's closed door, while the young actress whose interview was ended made her way to the main entrance. Her face was veiled and she walked quickly, looking to neither left nor right, her eyes fixed on the floor, as if anxious to avoid observation. As she passed Weston, he happened to look up. "Hello, Laura!" he exclaimed, as he recognized her. "So it was you in there with old skinflint all that time."