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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