To　him　from　somewhere　beyond　the　scaffold　came　now　the　Montague　girl　and　Jimmie。　The　girl　was　in　her　blanket；　and　Jimmie　bore　a　pitcher；　two　tin　cups；　and　a　package　of　sandwiches。　They　came　to　the　fire　and　Jimmie　poured　coffee　for　the　girl。　He　produced　sugar　from　a　pocket。
  〃Help　yourself；　James；〃　said　the　girl；　and　Jimmie　poured　coffee　for　himself。　They　ate　sandwiches　as　they　drank。　Merton　drew　a　little　back　from　the　fire。　The　scent　of　the　hot　coffee　threatened　to　make　him　forget　he　was　not　only　a　successful　screen　actor　but　a　gentleman。
  〃Did　you　have　to　do　it　again？〃　he　asked。
  〃I　had　to　do　it　twice　again；〃　said　the　girl　from　over　her　tin　cup。　〃They're　developing　the　strips　now；　then　they'll　run　them　in　the　projection　room；　and　they　won't　suit　Sig　one　little　bit；　and　I'll　have　to　do　it　some　more。　I'll　be　swimming　here　till　daylight　doth　appear。〃
  She　now　shot　that　familiar　glance　of　appraisal　at　Merton。　〃Have　a　sandwich　and　some　coffee；　Kid…give　him　your　cup；　Jimmie。〃
  It　was　Merton　Gill's　great　moment；　a　heart…gripping　climax　to　a　two…　days'　drama　that　had　at　no　time　lacked　tension。　Superbly　he　arose　to　it。　Consecrated　to　his　art；　Clifford　Armytage　gave　the　public　something　better　and　finer。　He　drew　himself　up　and　spoke　lightly；　clearly；　with　careless　ease：
  〃No；　thanks…I　couldn't　eat　a　mouthful。〃　The　smile　with　which　he　accompanied　the　simple　words　might　be　enigmatic；　it　might　hint　of　secret　sorrows；　but　it　was　plain　enough　that　these　could　not　ever　so　distantly　relate　to　a　need　for　food。
  Having　achieved　this　sensational　triumph；　with　all　the　quietness　of　method　that　should　distinguish　the　true　artist；　he　became　seized　with　stage　fright　amounting　almost　to　panic。　He　was　moved　to　snatch　the　sandwich　that　Jimmie　now　proffered；　the　cup　that　he　had　refilled　with　coffee。　Yet　there　was　but　a　moment　of　confusion。　Again　he　wielded　an　iron　restraint。　But　he　must　leave　the　stage。　He　could　not　tarry　there　after　his　big　scene；　especially　under　that　piercing　glance　of　the　girl。　Somehow　there　was　incredulity　in　it。
  〃Well；　I　guess　I'll　have　to　be　going；〃　he　remarked　jauntily；　and　turned　for　his　exit。
  〃Say；　Kid。〃　The　girl　halted　him　a　dozen　feet　away。
  〃Say；　listen　here。　This　is　on　the　level。　I　want　to　have　a　talk　with　you　to…morrow。　You'll　be　on　the　lot；　won't　you？〃
  He　seemed　to　debate　this　momentarily；　then　replied；　〃Oh；　yes。　I'll　be　around　here　somewhere。〃　〃Well；　remember；　now。　If　I　don't　run　into　you；　you　come　down　to　that　set　where　I　was　working　to…day。　See？　I　got　something　to　say　to　you。〃
  〃All　right。　I'll　probably　see　you　sometime　during　the　day。〃
  He　had　gone　on　to　his　hotel。　But　he　had　no　intention　of　seeing　the　Montague　girl　on　the　morrow；　nor　of　being　seen　by　her。　He　would　keep　out　of　that　girl's　way　whatever　else　he　did。　She　would　ask　him　if　everything　was　jake；　and　where　was　his　overcoat；　and　a　lot　of　silly　questions　about　matters　that　should　not　concern　her。
  He　was　in　two　minds　about　the　girl　now。　Beneath　an　unreasonable　but　very　genuine　resentment　that　she　should　have　doubled　for　Beulah　Baxter…as　if　she　had　basely　cheated　him　of　his　most　cherished　ideal…　there　ran　an　undercurrent　of　reluctant　but　very　profound　admiration　for　her　prowess。　She　had　done　some　thrilling　things　and　seemed　to　make　nothing　of　it。　Through　this　admiration　there　ran　also　a　thread　of　hostility　because　he；　himself；　would　undoubtedly　be　afraid　to　attempt　her　lightest　exploit。　Not　even　the　trifling　feat　he　had　just　witnessed；　for　he　had　never　learned　to　swim。　But　he　clearly　knew；　despite　this　confusion；　that　he　was　through　with　the　girl。　He　must　take　more　pains　to　avoid　her。　If　met　by　chance；　she　must　be　snubbed…　up…staged；　as　she　would　put　it。
  Under　his　blankets　now；　after　many　appealing　close…ups　of　the　sandwich　which　Jimmie　had　held　out　to　him；　he　felt　almost　sorry　that　he　had　not　taken　the　girl's　food。　All　his　being；　save　that　part　consecrated　to　his　art；　had　cried　out　for　it。　Art；　had　triumphed；　and　now　he　was　near　to　regretting　that　it　had　not　been　beaten　down。　No　good　thinking　about　it；　though。
  He　reached　again　for　his　watch。　It　was　seven…thirty　and　time　to　be　abroad。　Once　more　he　folded　his　blankets　and　placed　them　on　the　pile；　keeping　an　alert　glance；　the　while；　for　another　possible　bit　of　the　delicious　bread。　He　found　nothing　of　this　sort。　The　Crystal　Palace　Hotel　was　bare　of　provender。　Achieving　a　discreet　retirement　from　the　hostelry　he　stood　irresolute　in　the　street。　This　morning　there　was　no　genial　sun　to　warm　him。　A　high　fog　overcast　the　sky；　and　the　air　was　chill。　At　intervals　he　shivered　violently。　For　no　reason；　except　that　he　had　there　last　beheld　actual　food；　he　went　back　to　the　pool。
  Evidently　Mr。　Rosenblatt　had　finally　been　appeased。　The　place　was　deserted　and　lay　bare　and　ugly　in　the　dull　light。　The　gallant　ship　of　the　night　before　was　seen　to　be　a　poor；　flimsy　make…shift。　No　wonder　Mr。　Rosenblatt　had　wished　billows　to　engulf　it　and　mist　to　shroud　it。　He　sat　on　a　beam　lying　at　the　ship　end　of　the　pool　and　stared　moodily　at　the　pitiful　make…believe。
  He　rounded　his　shoulders　and　pulled　up　the　collar　of　his　coat。　He　knew　he　should　be　walking；　but　doubted　his　strength。　The　little　walk　to　the　pool　had　made　him　strangely　breathless。　He　wondered　how　long　people　were　in　starving　to　death。　He　had　read　of　fasters　who　went　for　weeks　without　food；　but　he　knew　he　was　not　of　this　class。　He　lacked　talent　for　it。　Doubtless　another　day　would　finish　him。　He　had　no　heart　now　for　visions　of　the　Gashwiler　table。　He　descended　tragically　to　recalling　that　last　meal　at　the　drug　store…the　bowl　of　soup　with　its　gracious　burden　of　rich；　nourishing　catsup。
  He　began　to　alter　the　scenario　of　his　own　life。　Suppose　he　had　worked　two　more　weeks　for　Gashwiler。　That　would　have　given　him　thirty　dollars。　Suppose　he　had　worked　a　month。　He　could　have　existed　a　long　time　on　sixty　dollars。　Suppose　he　had　even　stuck　it　out　for　one　week　more…fifteen　dollars　at　this　moment！　He　began　to　see　a　breakfast；　the　sort　of　meal　to　be　ordered　by　a　hungry　man　with　fifteen　dollars　to　squander。
  The　shivering　seized　him　again　and　he　heard　his　teeth　rattle。　He　must　move　from　this　spot；　forever　now　to　be　associated　with　black　disillusion。　He　arose　from　his　seat　and　was　dismayed　to　hear　a　hail　from　the　Montague　girl。　Was　he　never　to　be　free　from　her？　She　was　poised　at　a　little　distance；　one　hand　raised　to　him；　no　longer　the　drenched　victim　of　a　capricious　Rosenblatt；　but　the　beaming；　joyous　figure　of　one　who　had　triumphed　over　wind　and　wave。　He　went　almost　sullenly　to　her　while　she　waited。　No　good　trying　to　escape　her　for　a　minute　or　so。
  〃Hello；　old　Trouper！　You're　just　in　time　to　help　me　hunt　for　something。〃　She　was　in　the　familiar　street　suit　now；　a　skirt　and　jacket　of　some　rough　brown　goods　and　a　cloth　hat　that　kept　close　to　her　small　head　above　hair　that　seemed　of　no　known　shade　whatever；　though　it　was　lighter　than　dark。　She　flashed　a　smile　at　him　from　her　broad　mouth　as　he　came　up；　though　her　knowing　gray　eyes　did　not　join　in　this　smile。　He　knew　instantly　that　she　was　taking　him　in。
  This　girl　was　wise　beyond　her　years；　he　thought；　but　one　even　far　less　knowing　could　hardly　have　been　in　two　minds　about　his　present　abject　condition。　The　pushed…up　collar　of　his　coat　did　not　entirely　hide　the　once…white　collar　beneath　it；　the　beard　had　reached　its　perhaps　most　distressing　stage　of　development；　and　the　suit　was　rumpled　out　of　all　the　nattiness　for　which　it　had　been　advertised。　Even　the　plush　hat　had　lost　its　smart　air。
  Then　he　plainly　saw　that　the　girl　would；　for　the　moment　at　least；　ignore　these　phenomena。　She　laughed　again；　and　this　time　the　eyes　laughed；　too。　〃C'mon　over　and　help　me　hunt　for　that　bar　pin　I　lost。　It　must　be　at　this　end；　because　I　know　I　had　it　on　when　I　went　into　the　drink。　Maybe　it's　in　the　pool；　but　maybe　I　lost　it　after　I　got　out。　It's　one　of　Baxter's　that　she　wore　in　the　scene　just　ahead　of　last　night；　and　she'll　have　to　have　it　again　to…day。　Now〃　She　began　to　search　the　ground　around　the　cold　brazier。　〃It　might　be　along　here。〃　He　helped　her　look。　Pretty　soon　he　would　remember　an　engagement　and　get　away。　The　search　at　the　end　of　the　pool　proved　fruitless。　The　girl　continued　to　chatter。　They　had　worked　until　one…　thirty　before　that　grouch　of　a　Rosenblatt　would　call　it　a　day。　At　that　she'd　rather　do　water　stuff　than　animal　stuff…especially　lions。　〃Lions？　I　should　think　so！〃　He　replied　to　this。　〃Dangerous；　isn't　it？〃
  〃Oh；　it　ain't　that。　They're　nothing　to　be　afraid　of　if　you　know　'em；　but　they're　so　hot　and　smelly　when　you　have　to　get　close　to　'em。　Anything　I　really　hate；　it's　having　to　get　up　against　a　big；　hot；　hairy；　smelly　lion。〃
  He　murmured　a　sympathetic　phrase　and　extended　his　search　for　the　lost　pin　to　the　side　of　the　pool。　Almost　under　the　scaffold　he　saw　the　shine　of　precious　stones　and　called　to　her　as　he　picked　up　the　pin；　a　bar　pin　splendidly　set　with　diamonds。　He　was　glad　that　he　had　found　it　for　her。　It　must　have　cost　a　great　deal　of　money　and　she　would　doubtless　be　held　responsible　for　its　safe…keeping。
  She　came　dancing　to　him。　〃Say；　that's　fine…your　eyes　are　working；　ain't　they？　I　might　'a'　been　set　back　a　good　six　dollars　if　you　hadn't　found　that。〃　She　took　the　bauble　and　fastened　it　inside　her　ja