“What of it, silly? I thought she looked as thin as a shad in that black dress, and the way Poniotowsky goes about with her proves what an ass he is.” 

 “Well, I hate him,” Blair simply stated; “I would wring his neck for twenty cents. But she’s very ill; that is what is the matter with her.” 

 “They all look like that off the stage,” the duchess assured indifferently. “They are nothing but footlight beauties: they look ghastly off the boards. I dare say that Letty Lane is ill, though; the pace she goes would kill anybody. Have some more tea?” 

 He held out his cup and agreed with her. 

 “She works too hard—this playing almost every night, singing and dancing twice at the matinées, I should think she would be dead.” 

 “Oh, I don’t mean her professional engagements,” murmured the duchess. 82 

82

 A revolt such as had stung him when they criticized her at the Carlton rose in him now. 

 “It is hard to believe,” he said, “when you hear her sing that dove song and that cradle song.” 

 But his companion’s laugh stopped his championship short. 

 “You dear boy, don’t be a silly, Dan. She doesn’t need your pity or your good opinion. She is perfectly satisfied. She has got a fortune in Poniotowsky, and she really is ‘a perfect terror,’ you know.” 

 Affected slightly by her cold dismissal of his subject, he paused for a moment. But his own point of view was too strong to be shaken by this woman’s light words. 

 “I suppose if she wasn’t from my town—” At his words the vision of Letty Lane with the coral strands on her dress, came before his eyes, and he said honestly: “But I do take an interest in her just the same, and she’s going to pieces, that’s clear. Something ought to be done.” 83 

83

 The Duchess of Breakwater was very much annoyed. 

 “Are you going to talk about her all the time?” she asked with sharp sweetness. “You are not very flattering, Dan.” 

 And he returned peacefully, “Why, I thought you 

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