"Angel!" cried Emma Fornez, and she embraced Spinetti. Then, knowing in herself that the day was won, she began to amuse her audience. "Do you know what the critics will write? I’ll tell you. The audience was carried off its feet in the second act. They will praise the first. They will say the second was obvious, and they will praise the third act, because there I shall do a little trick to them—in the card scene. I shall be very noble—very tragic. I will make a little picture of death before my eyes—with all his bones rattling and his great big hollow eyes, and they shall see it on my face—so! And I’ll look very steady—noble—profound—like a queen. See?—a thing which Carmen would nevère, nevère do, for she’s a little wretch of an animal that would be frightened to death. But you will see they will all like it—it’s their moral that you have to serve up to them." "Third act—third act," came the running call from the flies. "All on the stage for the third act." When Beecher entered the corridor, Miss Charters was only a short distance away. He was prepared for Lorraine as a companion, but he felt a sudden anger at the sight of Garraboy, who in turn, suddenly comprehending the aim of his partner’s maneuvers, looked anything but pleased. She nodded to him, holding out her hand. "She is wonderful, Teddy, wonderful. Have you seen her? Is she pleased?" "She is a great, great artist," he said with extra warmth. "She is pleased as a child." The two men had nodded with that impertinent jerk of the head which in society conveys the effect of a bucket of water. "Come and see me after the next act," she said, looking at him closely. "If I can," he said hastily. He went up the steps and from the tail of his eye saw her linger, watching him as he went. A little contrition, a sudden sympathy came to him, but he repressed it angrily, saying to himself between his teeth: "Garraboy—how can she stand for that!" When he returned to the box, Mrs. Kildair and Mrs. Fontaine were in the anteroom in low converse. He was suddenly struck with the look of age in Mrs. Kildair’s face. "But I assure you—I can go alone," she was saying. "I would not allow it," said Mrs. Fontaine firmly. Then turning to Beecher she said, so as not to reach the others: "Teddy, as soon as the curtain is up, step out. Mrs. Kildair is not well. You will take her home. I have ordered the automobile. You can get back for the last act." Mrs. Kildair made no further remonstrance—she was at the end of her tether. "Sit here," she said to Beecher, sitting down on the couch. "I don’t want to be noticed." "You’re ill!" he said alarmed. "Yes, ill," she said mechanically. At this moment the house became still. She rose with a return of energy and signaled him that she was ready. Five minutes later they were in the automobile fleeing uptown. A moment of weakness was rare in her life, yet she comprehended it without seeking to delude herself.