If she were willing to go on living as before, and use the influence of such men as Willard Brockton, she could have all the parts she wanted to play, but that was a price she would pay no longer. The weeks went by, and no money coming in, it was not long before her slender earnings were depleted. For a time she managed to keep the wolf from the door by selling some of her old finery, dainty creations in point lace and chiffons, which she would never wear again, but when these were gone, blank destitution stared her in the face. A brief engagement she was lucky enough to secure after unheard-of exertions, helped matters for a while, but the show came to grief, and then things were as bad as ever. Visits to the pawnshop became frequent and soon she was compelled to give up her rooms and seek still cheaper quarters. But in all her troubles, she never lost courage. Sleeping and waking, the searching, questioning eyes of John Madison were continually before her. At all times she could hear him saying: "You'll be true, little one!" And it strengthened her resolve to battle bravely on, until he came to claim her for his bride. "I didn't see you, Jim," said Laura, sinking wearily into a chair near him. "Well, what luck to-day?" He shook his head. "Bad--bad. Guess you don't want to hear." "I'm sorry," she said. "Where have you been?" She listened with sympathetic interest, as he told her of the day's useless trampings. When he had finished, he looked inquiringly at her. Abruptly he asked: "And you--got anything yet?" She shook her head despondently. "No, Jim, not yet." He made a gesture towards the private office, which she had just vacated. "You were in there such a long time, I made sure there was something doing." Laura shrugged her shoulders impatiently: "Quiller sent for me, and I hurried here thinking it was serious. Then he had the nerve to say he'd guarantee me an engagement, if I could put up five hundred dollars. I could not help laughing. 'Where would I get five hundred dollars?' I said. 'You know that better than I,' he replied. 'Surely you've plenty of admirers who'd be willing to put the money up for you.' What do you think of his impudence? I felt like slapping his face." The advance man gave a dry chuckle. "Up to the old game," he said. "Do you think these people live on the petty commissions we pay 'em? Not on your life! They gets just such gals as you to find an angel willing to put up the 'dough'. That's why there are so many near-actresses on the stage. It isn't talent they want nowadays, it's money." Changing the subject, he went on: "By the way, I met an old chum of yours just now. She asked after you----" "An old chum?" echoed Laura, puzzled. "Yes--Elfie St. Clair." The girl's pale face reddened slightly. Involuntarily her manner stiffened. Indifferently she said: "I haven't seen her for months. What did she say?"