business better when I have a cigar between my teeth."

"Certainly, Mr. Williams. Just lower the window"-this to Milly-" then the smoke will pass

out."

His cigar lighted, the manager felt more at ease and without further preliminaries began at once upon the subject of the next season's plans. Finally they reached the possibility of changes in the cast. These were discussed at length. Then touching on the renewal of their contract, he observed:

"Now, Miss Germaine, Mr. Garland and I have talked the matter over and recognizing that you have made the piece the success it is to-day, we have decided to raise your salary fifty per for next season. How does that strike you?" and he regarded her critically through half-shut eyes.

She rested her arm on the table and toyed with her finger rings. What a temptation money is! One must have it in order to live; she hardly knew what to say or what to do. Her heart was hungry for the companionship of her baby girl. There had been a tugging at her heart-strings all day. The life of an actress left little time for the pleasures of home. If she remained with this company, the next season would be spent on the road, and that meant a still longer separation. She felt the manager's eyes watching her, yet she could not seem to find words to express her feel

ings. There was no other way than to tell him the truth. Why not? It could stand, and she must not be afraid. With her eyes still regarding her rings she said:

"I've been thinking of giving up musical comedy."

"You've been what?" exclaimed the man, not crediting what he had heard.

"I've been thinking of giving up musical comedy," she repeated, sighing audibly.

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The man started. Was the girl losing her mind? Thinking of giving up musical comedy," she, the talk of the town, whose name at this very moment was blazing in letters five feet high in the electric sign over the playhouse entrance! And sitting there apparently as calm as the plaster Cupid over the proscenium arch saying that she was thinking of giving it all up! What could be the matter with the woman? He turned his head uneasily in his high collar, he felt hot in that locality; it was enough to arouse any man's anger. "Confound it," he muttered under his breath, "Garland was right after all-there was something in the wind, some manager of a rival playhouse may have approached her with a flattering offer; it was up to him now to sift the whole matter to the bottom. Placing his cigar across a tumbler, he leaned his arms heavily on the table before him and in slow, deliberate tones opened fire:

"I'll have to ask you if you will oblige me by letting in a little more light on that last remark of yours, Miss Germaine. I can't seem to see just what you mean by it, although what you said was clear enough." Then irascibly: "Why in the devil do you want to cut out the whole business and quit? Haven't we given you a square deal?" he snapped as he fidgeted about in his chair, crossing and uncrossing his legs. He eyed the maid dozing in her chair by the window, the mascot asleep in her lap.

Bettina Germaine realized fully that she was under obligations to a certain extent, to both Mr. Williams and Mr. Garland, and certainly owed them allegiance. They must know that she intended to "play fair." It was always difficult for her to speak of her personal affairs, especially to a comparative stranger, but no other way seemed open to her. It was only right that he should know the true reason. She turned away from the table, and with her eyes cast down began speaking:

"Mr. Williams, as the heroines say, 'May I tell you the story of my life'? I think if you will permit me to do so, it will make my attitude plainer to you."

He ran his fingers around his collar before answering. Her tone somehow reassured him.

"In that case," he said, "go ahead," lighting a match by drawing it under the table, "but get

Do you

back to the present as soon as you can. know, for a featherweight you gave me a pretty good jolt a few minutes ago, and," lighting a fresh cigar, "I haven't got my breath yet." He smiled out of one corner of his mouth, a way he had when he felt annoyed and yet wanted to appear pleasant. Having assured himself that his cigar was all right, he tipped back in his chair, folded his arms, and assuming a listening attitude said:

Ring her up, Miss Germaine, the audience waits."

CHAPTER III

MY

BETTINA TELLS HER STORY

Y problem is, I am quite sure, far different from what you think, Mr. Williams, and while it is my wish to unburden my mind to you, I hope and believe you will respect my confidence, and that neither you nor Mr. Garland will ever speak of it to anyone, especially newspaper men. There are reasons why I prefer keeping my identity a secret, for a time at least."

He bowed his allegiance.

"I was born in Washington," she continued. "My father was Frederic Germaine, the wellknown tenor-you probably have heard of him. He was very popular as a concert singer."

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Mr. Williams nodded. "I've heard him many a time. That's where you get the voice all right." 'He died when I was fourteen years old. We were living in Denver at the time, as my mother was inclined to lung trouble. My life had always been a very happy one. I had a visiting governness, as neither of my parents cared to have me go go to a school, so my education was conducted under the immediate supervision of my mother. We