Broadway gossip filtered eventually into the boarding-house, chiefly through the medium of that seasoned sport, the mild young man who thought so highly of the redoubtable Benny Whistler, and she was aware that the name of Reginald Cracknell, which was always getting itself linked with somebody, had been coupled with that of Miss Hobson. It seemed likely that in this instance rumour spoke truth, for the lady was of that compellingly blonde beauty which attracts the Cracknells of this world. But even so...     

       “It seems that Cracknell...” said Gerald. “Apparently this man Cracknell...” He was finding Sally's bright, horrified gaze somewhat trying. “Well, the fact is Cracknell believes in Mabel Hobson...and... well, he thinks this part would suit her.”      

       “Oh, Jerry!”      

       Could infatuation go to such a length? Could even the spacious heart of a Reginald Cracknell so dominate that gentleman's small size in heads as to make him entrust a part like Ruth in “The Primrose Way” to one who, when desired by the producer of her last revue to carry a bowl of roses across the stage and place it on a table, had rebelled on the plea that she had       not been engaged as a dancer? Surely even lovelorn Reginald could perceive that this was not the stuff of which great emotional actresses are made.     

       “Oh, Jerry!” she said again.     

       There was an uncomfortable silence. They turned and walked back in the direction of the boarding-house. Somehow Gerald's arm had managed to get itself detached from Sally's. She was conscious of a curious dull ache that was almost like a physical pain.     

       “Jerry! Is it worth it?” she burst out vehemently.     

       The question seemed to sting the young man into something like his usual decisive speech.     

       “Worth it? Of course it's worth it. It's a Broadway production. That's all that matters. Good heavens! I've been trying long enough to get a play on Broadway, and it isn't likely that I'm going to chuck away my chance when it comes along just because one might do better in the way of casting.”      

       “But, Jerry! Mabel Hobson! It's... it's murder! Murder in the first degree.”      

       “Nonsense. She'll 

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