At first the sudden transition from misery and absolute want to all the comforts and extravagant luxuries that unlimited means can command was so gratifying that she saw no reason to repent of the step she had taken. On the contrary, she rejoiced that she was still pretty enough, still young and clever enough to hold a man of Brockton's influence and wealth. Decidedly, she thought to herself, Elfie was right. Virtue was all very well for nice, good girls who did not mind doing chores, practicing painful economy, wearing shabby clothes, and tiring themselves out for small wages in petty, humiliating occupations, but she could never stand it. She would die rather. Life would not be worth living if she were to be always denied the sweets of life, and to her that meant champagne suppers, gorgeous gowns, and all that goes with them. So, banishing from her mind any unpleasant memories or regrets, she plunged headlong into the boiling vortex of gay metropolitan life. Thanks to Brockton, she secured one of the best parts of the expiring theatrical season, and made such a hit that her name was in everybody's mouth. The newspapers interviewed her, society women copied her, toothpaste and perfume manufacturers solicited her testimonials. In a word, she was famous overnight. Burgess, the manager, was now eager to sign for five years, but Laura laughed, and tore up the contract before his face. What did she care now? She had the whip hand. The managers had neglected and despised her long enough; they could do the running after contracts now.