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Show Coming out of Their Trance. Miss Uroughton waited. Through the stage door, opening and shutting every other minute, could be heard the swish and patter of heavy rain on the pavement outside and cold little gusts of wind swept in. Miss Uroughton Urough-ton read all the brief notices pinned on the call board, and, with the Impatient Im-patient weariness of one who Is accustomed accus-tomed to wait the convenience of other people, she leaned against the wall In apparent Indifference to the passing of time. In spite of all her self assurance Alice Uroughton had earned her own living for ten years, and live of those as a journalist she trembled at the thought of a short Interview with Lawrence Rright. What would he say? Would the time and place drift from him, as it did even now from her? She heard the orchestra burst Into a triumphal march, the play was over, and in a few seconds the inner door wasopencd and a young cavalier, with his great plumed hat dangling from his hand, looked out. There was no Hash of recognition as Miss Rroughton stepped toward him. He was frankly apologetic and unconscious. "So sorry to keep you waiting till the end of the matinee," Lawrence began, "and even now I hardly know where to ask you it was awfully good of you to come, Miss Rroughton you'll find me a very poor subject. Where could we talk?" Lawrence turned his eyes search-lngly search-lngly for the lirst time on the face of the lady journalist. "Is it possible, Alice? What does it all mean? Why didn't you send In your name? Come, you're not a real live Interviewer, arc you? "As for my name, Lai," she answered, an-swered, "don't you remember that 1 told you when we first met that 'Sll-vcrthorpo' 'Sll-vcrthorpo' was only assumed?" "Then you've quite given up the stage?" "No; it gave mo up several years ago!" "What about dreams of fame, courage, cour-age, endurance? Have you forgotten how you used to lecture me in New York? I'm disappointed! Alice, will you wait ten minutes while I change? 1 won't bo a second longer!" With a boyish laugh and a backward back-ward look of mingled tenderness and mockery he sped away, and Alice Rroughton pushed the stage door open and looked out Into the dreary street. The sound of his voice, the expression on his face so gloomy and hopeless when she saw It last filled her with joy. All the events of seven years swiftly flitted through her mind. Alice had been a girl of twenty-three at the time .when she met Lawrence Rright In New York. She was playing play-ing a small part In an English company, com-pany, and he was "stranded." Lonely and alone in a great city Lawrence was drifting rapidly down the stream when tho determined girl had saved him with a friendship most unusual and magnanimous. Without beauty or any charm she had won the entire confidence of a youiig, moody, Impressionable Impres-sionable man. Returning Lawrence asked her to dine with him and called a cab. "I can't take you to my place," he said. "I've only just moved Into a new flat, and this afternoon is such a chapter out of my past life that I can't bear to share It or you with anybody else." "Dear Lai, you must tell me everything every-thing for the interview In tho last live minutes. When did the great opportunity oppor-tunity come? 1 knew jou would be ready at the right mlnutel Do you remember when I first told you so?" "Yes. I was in despair, and you you were in blue muslin. Have you given up blue muslin,? I've given' up despalrl" The foolish words jarred on Alice, but she instinctively adapted hcisclf to his present mood. They talked about New York, tho theaters, tho actors, the streets, till tho lights of the Strand seemed as bright as the glitter of Droadway, and the Thames was spanned In their Imagination by tho chain of stars that outline llrook-lyn llrook-lyn bridge. The llttlo dinner party of two was a great success. As they looked at each other In tho glitter of bright lights Lawrence noticed for the first tlmo since their meeting how worn and haggard his friend had grown. '1 seem to owo all my success to you," he exclaimed. "And I owe all my happiness to you," Alice answered. Rending toward him, with her thin hands clasped tightly beneath her chin, she commenced to talk about tho struggle and stress of her own life. As Lawrence listened he felt more and more that her confidence was self forgetful and unrestrained. Their old positions were reversed; Alice was absorbed in the unconscious revelation revela-tion of her longing for his sympathy. Lawrence grew serious; ho found himself him-self surprised Into a conversation that was both Intimate and emotional. Leaning forward and listening Intently, In-tently, his hand rested for a minute near to Alice's arm on the table. With a rapid movement, unlike herself, her-self, she clasped both her hands round his. "Lai, dear" she murmured, "everything "every-thing has changed my life the world but you are the samel" "Just the same!" he repeated pushing push-ing his hair back from his forehead. "Rut d'you know, Alice, 1 haven't told you anything for the Interview, have 1?" "Tell me now?" "I'm afraid you have heard It all before," be-fore," he went on after a pause. "Struggles, tours, the deadly commonplace! com-monplace! Rut when my chance came at last, three years ago, It was all owing to a woman's goodness a woman of great charm, great talent. I don't know how to express It, but she seems to draw one Into an atmosphere atmos-phere of color and fragrance; not strictly beautiful, but In her boiiyaut youth like a flower in bloom. There's a line sentence for you, Alice! She was very kind to me from the beginning. begin-ning. I found myself getting Into one good thing after another. She has always been popular, and people arc good enough to rather like us both. You must come and see my wife," said Lawrence. "I have so often told her about New York. I want you to like her. I am sure she will like you." The sentence ended feebly. Alice's face was cast down in shadow; he could see nothing but the dark outline of the drooping head. There was a long silence. When Alice moved at last, she looked Inquiringly at Lawrence. Law-rence. "Don't you think Ills time to go?" "Are you tired?" "Yes, very!" said Alice. "May I take you home?" "No. It Is late It must be nearly your time to return to the theatre. I will go with you so far." "I'm afraid you will have to invent all sorts of Interviews, Alice. I told you 1 was an awful subject!" The cold rain was flicked against their faces; tho wind blew Alice's hair In long wisps across her eyes as they drove along. "1 think I will go the theatre where my wife Is playing," said Lawrence. Alice leaned back In her seat. The streets seemed Interminable. She, longed to be alone. At last their cab stopped In a narrow court; she hastily hasti-ly refused Lawrence's entreaty to drive home and stood facing him under un-der the dim lamp over the stage door. Holding her hand, even though she tried to draw it away, he thanked her once again for the sympathy of the old days. Good night, goodby!" was her only answer. j The next minute Lawrence was running upstairs to his wife's dressing dress-ing room in tho theater. He tapped and opened the door atthe same time. There was an odor of flowers and the bright little room was scattered with pretty and costly things. Mrs. Lawrence Law-rence Rright had Just arrived and was standing In front of the glass. Her long, clinging dress was as delicate deli-cate In tint and line as the Malmalson carnations at her breast; her thick, wavy hair looked as rich In color as old gold, and she turned to greet Lawrence Law-rence with, a flashing smile. After a few words ho threw himself Intb a low chair and sat thinking. In the cold and gathering darkness of the night now lost in shadow, now seen by tho flickering gleam of the street lamps his heart sped after Alice. Suddenly he looked up and met his wife's beautiful eyes In the glass. A smile answered hers. Rising quickly he threw his arms lightly round her and stooped to lay her right cheek against his own. All the shadows faded away, and Alice with them. |