3 57 B
 
 
 <J~v
 
 THE LEAST RESISTANCE 
 
 KATE L. IKcLAURIN
 
 THE LEAST 
 RESISTANC E 
 
 By KATE L. McLAURIN 
 
 NEW YORK: GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY
 
 Copyright, 1916, 
 BY GEORGE H. DOBAN COMPANY
 
 To 
 MY MOTHER 
 
 2136946
 
 THE LEAST RESISTANCE
 
 THE 
 LEAST RESISTANCE 
 
 CHAPTER ONE 
 
 BOB threw down the Dramatic 'Mirror which had 
 monopolised his attention for the past half hour, 
 looked at his watch, snatched up his hat and started 
 towards the door. 
 
 "Come on," he said peremptorily, "we'll be late." 
 
 "In just a minute, Bob," his wife answered. She put 
 the last stitch in the cap she had been making, held it 
 up and looked at it critically. It was a small lace affair 
 put together with as few stitches as possible black 
 velvet strings to tie under the chin and one pink rose 
 perched over the left ear. She placed it on her head 
 and glanced in the mirror to see the effect. Satisfied 
 herself she turned to Bob. 
 
 "Think it will do?" she asked. 
 
 "Sure. Come on what's the use of making Sam sore 
 by being late," he answered without looking at her. 
 
 "Why, there's no hurry it's fifteen minutes before 
 rehearsal, and we can walk it easily in ten." She laid 
 aside the cap, shook her skirt free of the strings and 
 started for the washstand. 
 
 "Well, if you aren't coming, I'm going on," he said 
 impatiently. 
 
 She understood his impatience and was purposely de- 
 taining him, hoping thereby to cheat him of his visit 
 to Clancy's on the way to the theatre. But Bob was
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 in no mood to be detained, and knowing that his stay 
 in the saloon would be shorter if she were waiting on 
 the outside, Evelyn caught up her hat, followed him out 
 of the door and down the narrow stairway to the street. 
 
 Her coming increased his irritability. He felt that 
 he was being spied on, restricted. He wanted to shake 
 her off, to hurt her in some way. He resented the fact 
 that she had been waiting for him the night before when 
 he got in at one o'clock, and had put him to bed with- 
 out a word of criticism he resented further that she 
 had waked him at seven with the reminder that there 
 was a great deal more studying to be done on his part. 
 He couldn't concentrate, his mind refused to soak up 
 the words as it usually did, and she had gone over and 
 over the lines with him until they seemed fairly rooted 
 in his memory. All morning he had been at it and now 
 she grudged him five minutes to himself. 
 
 "You've been so busy with that cap, I bet you haven't 
 sewed in my frills," he said at last. 
 
 "I can do that when we get home. Won't take ten 
 minutes." 
 
 "Maybe Sam will keep us, and who's got the brunt 
 of next week's show you or me ?" 
 
 "You, of course, but what's all of this about? You 
 know I don't neglect your clothes. You are always but- 
 toned and pressed and befrilled when necessary, aren't" 
 you ? Bob speak up, aren't you ?" 
 
 "Yes," he said reluctantly. 
 
 "Good boy!" She pressed his arm and smiled up in 
 his face. She wanted to get him in a pleasant humour 
 before they reached the theatre he rehearsed so much 
 better when he was cheerful. "You know, Bob," she 
 went on, "you are considered one of the best dressed men 
 in the business." 
 
 His face relaxed a little, and possibly a fleeting pic- 
 ture flashed across his brain of the designing, and sew-
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 ing, and pressing that consumed most of Evelyn's time, 
 and he knew, though he did not like to admit it, that 
 his reputation was largely due to her industry. Though 
 he did not like to acknowledge this fact, he was not 
 without generosity, and besides they were nearing 
 Clancy's and he wanted his visit there to be accompanied 
 with as little friction as possible, so he patted her hand 
 and said, "You're a good kid, all right." 
 
 Evelyn laughed, and began to talk of the part that he 
 was to play next week. She found him ready to join 
 her, for it had been a long time since such a part had 
 been given him. The role of Romeo suited him; it ap- 
 pealed to his romantic nature ; gave him a chance to feel 
 large, and generous, and reckless, and to make love. 
 The costumes were becoming to him, and the sword he 
 loved the sword ! Evelyn agreed with him, assured him 
 that there were few stock actors who could use the sword 
 as he could, and that his fight would win him many new 
 admirers. 
 
 "And the clothes are so becoming to you, Bob ! re- 
 member the first time I saw you play it was the lover 
 in 'Richelieu.' " 
 
 "That wasn't much of a part, though it takes dash to 
 play it, but Romeo " 
 
 They were nearing Clancy's, and Evelyn fervently 
 hoped that Bob was so engrossed in the idea of the hit 
 he was to make that he would pass on without stop- 
 ping. "I'm going to put deep frills in your sleeves and 
 open the blouse " 
 
 But pleased as he was with her appreciation of his 
 merits as an actor, Bob did not forget Clancy's. How- 
 ever, he wanted to be as agreeable about it as possible. 
 "That'll be fine!" he said with a show of enthusiasm. 
 "You walk on ; I'll be along in a second." 
 
 "Oh, Bob, don't go in! You know you want to have 
 a good rehearsal." 
 
 ii
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 "That's just it, and I feel as flat as a flounder. I need 
 a bracer just one, that's all." He smiled at her, and 
 disappeared behind the swinging doors. 
 
 Evelyn walked on slowly. She was glad that she 
 had no lines in "Romeo and Juliet," for she was so tired 
 that she could scarcely remember the "business" that had 
 been given the "court ladies." Bob's costumes sent from 
 Boston were so poor in quality, and so uncertain in fit, 
 that it had taken all of her ingenuity to make them wear- 
 able. This, with the work that the small flat involved, 
 and the nine performances a week at the theatre, had 
 about used up her strength. 
 
 Bob Waters and his wife were members of the Empire 
 Stock Company, which was securely established in the 
 affections of a small New England manufacturing town. 
 They played every night, except Sunday, and gave three 
 matinees a week. The other days, with the exception of 
 Thursday afternoon and Sunday, they rehearsed the next 
 week's play. Sunday night the dress rehearsal was 
 held. They played to packed houses, and the factory 
 workers fed their starved imaginations on the romance 
 and fun furnished by the Empire Stock. They evidenced 
 a vast amount of interest in the players, and wrote long, 
 ardent letters to express their approval and enthusiasm. 
 
 It was March now and the company had been playing 
 since October long enough to make the actors and 
 actresses well known to the townspeople. As Evelyn 
 walked on after Bob's disappearance into the saloon, sev- 
 eral persons spoke to her; a schoolgirl bowed in a shy, 
 admiring way. She wondered why they felt so for peo- 
 ple of the stage. They wrote her that it must be won- 
 derful to live her life, and three- fourths of the girls in 
 the town thought her the luckiest of mortals she was 
 the wife of Robert Waters ! 
 
 She had not walked a block before Bob caught up with 
 
 12
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 her. The strong odour of his favourite Scotch whiskey 
 emanated from him. 
 
 "I thought you were going to stick to beer in the day 
 time." 
 
 "One glass would do me a lot of good," he answered 
 scornfully, "and I didn't want to keep you waiting while 
 I had two," he said playfully. Then taking her arm he 
 hurried her down the dark, muddy alley that led to the 
 stage entrance. There was no walk, and the garbage 
 cans that had been set out of back doors made it ill- 
 smelling. The door was hidden under a ladder that 
 served as a fire escape from the gallery. In the shadow 
 Evelyn paused for her husband to lead the way. He 
 put his arm about her, drew her close and kissed her. 
 
 "Scotch always makes you affectionate, Bob," she said 
 with a laugh. 
 
 "You laugh at a man's holiest sentiments," he answered, 
 and she remembered it was a line from a part that he 
 played not long ago. 
 
 He opened the door and followed her into the theatre. 
 The stage was dark and chilly. The company sat about 
 on chairs and boxes waiting for the appearance of Sam 
 Foster, the director. Some one called out a greeting to 
 the newcomers, and Evelyn from her position by the 
 mailbox answered, "Good-morning." 
 
 Bob collected his share of mail and strolled over to 
 Harmon Miller, the comedian of the company, a power- 
 fully-built fellow with a well-shaped head and broad, 
 expressive face. He spoke in a slow, soft voice and was 
 constantly studying comic effects. He was a self- 
 educated man, a self-trained actor. The members of 
 the company gave him credit for knowing his business, 
 and the local papers predicted great success for him 
 when he struck Broadway. 
 
 "And how is the world with you this morning, little 
 Eva?" Hilda St. John asked as she came up by Evelyn. 
 
 13
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 "My clothes for next week are horrid, and I'm too tired 
 to fix them," Evelyn said with a laugh. "Otherwise the 
 world is fine !" 
 
 "Optimist," the other said as she tapped Evelyn affec- 
 tionately on the cheek. "Being an ingenue, you have to 
 be, I suppose!" 
 
 Evelyn chuckled it was her charm for Hilda that she 
 always appreciated a bit of wit. 
 
 Hilda St. John, the leading woman of the Empire 
 Stock, was in the early thirties, large, well built, with can- 
 did blue eyes, and straw-coloured hair, which under the 
 judicious use of peroxide assumed the golden tint that 
 ravished her audiences. She moved slowly and with 
 what the town papers called the "acme of grace." Hilda 
 was in reality a simple, kindly soul, but her long asso- 
 ciation with the heroines of popular plays had made her 
 artificial in speech and manner. There was a pathetic 
 droop to the corners of the mouth and a yearning look 
 in her eyes, tricks of her trade that, through continued 
 use, had become a part of her. She was a woman of lim- 
 ited education, no reader a student only of the lines of 
 her part and herself long practice had made her an 
 expert in the analysis of her own emotions. However, 
 this self-absorption and artificiality could not kill the 
 kindliness of her nature, and the hard struggle against 
 heavy odds had left a substratum of reliability and fine- 
 ness under the crust of theatrical effect. 
 
 She was fond of Evelyn, whose slenderness and neu- 
 tral quality formed a good foil for her own opulent 
 beauty. She had known Bob before his marriage, and 
 she pitied his wife. At other times she enjoyed Evelyn 
 as a comrade who had no stories to offset her own artistic 
 and sentimental conquests. 
 
 Evelyn had one accomplishment, that was her single 
 advantage over Miss St. John. She was an expert needle- 
 woman and was able to dress her parts with the least 
 14
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 possible expense and in good taste, with an independence 
 of the dressmakers who were the bugbear of Hilda's 
 life. The conversation between the two women usually 
 turned on the clothes question when Hilda was not 
 recounting her triumph in some role that suited her. 
 
 Evelyn never gave her own acting any thought beyond 
 the conscientious doing of the day's work, and the hope 
 that she and Bob would eventually fall into an engage- 
 ment that would not be so wearing on mind and body. 
 
 The general talk was stopped by the arrival of the 
 director. A few lights were turned on and the rehearsal 
 called. Each member trotted through his or her part 
 with as much speed and as many inaccuracies as the 
 exacting Mr. Foster would permit. 
 
 Bob Waters, braced by the Scotch whiskey, swag- 
 gered through Romeo with fine effect. He made his 
 entrances boldly, his exits effectively, and felt for his 
 lines so skilfully that an audience would have been 
 deceived into thinking that he knew the part. Not so 
 Sam Foster ; he had known Bob too long. 
 
 "Little more study, Bob ; this part's got to be pat no 
 hesitating; keep that fight exit lifted that scene rests 
 on you." 
 
 "I've never let a scene down yet," Bob grumbled. 
 
 "We won't argue about that; just keep this one up, 
 will you?" Sam said diplomatically. 
 
 They worked through the morning, were dismissed 
 for lunch, returned at one-thirty, and rehearsed until 
 four. Evelyn left the theatre with Bob and Harmon 
 Miller, the comedian. The three were tired and nervous 
 from the long hours in the damp, chilly theatre. Bob's 
 lunch-hour drink had long since worn out and he was 
 pale and irritable. He had been through the part of 
 Romeo three times and, in spite of his physique, he was 
 not strong; at least his constitution was breaking under 
 the strain he put upon it. 
 
 15
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 No one spoke until they were out of the dark, iH- 
 smelling alley. 
 
 "The days are getting a bit longer," Harmon said; 
 "used to be night when we got out." 
 
 "Yes," Evelyn answered, "it's spring a pretty dreary- 
 looking spring," she added as she glanced about. 
 
 "March is a bad month, but it'll soon blow away," 
 Harmon said cheerfully. 
 
 "Know what you are going to do this summer, Har- 
 mon?" Evelyn asked. 
 
 "Stock, I guess they want me in Syracuse. How 
 about you two ?" 
 
 "New York and job hunting, I suppose unless some- 
 thing unexpected turns up." It was a fear that haunted 
 her, a workless summer, and their slender bank account. 
 
 They passed Clancy's saloon and Bob stopped. "See 
 you later, Evelyn coming in, Harmon ?" 
 
 "No, I cut out John Barleycorn five years ago," the 
 comedian said. 
 
 "I will, too, when Sam quits working me to death 
 this leading business is a dog's life." Bob turned into 
 the saloon, and the other two walked on. 
 
 For a while neither spoke ; then Miller broke the awk- 
 ward silence: 
 
 "Can't you get him to cut that out, Evelyn?" 
 
 Evelyn started she was not brooding over Bob's dis- 
 sipation as Harmon imagined. She was physically tired, 
 and her mind was vacant. "Drinking, you mean ?" 
 
 "Yep ; it's done up better men than Bob." 
 
 "I know it has," she answered. 
 
 "He is going it pretty strong." 
 
 "He is tired and depressed," she said loyally ; "he has 
 been working pretty hard and it is getting on his 
 nerves." 
 
 "Well, Clancy is about the worst nerve doctor I know," 
 Harmon said with a twinkle in his eye. 
 1 6
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 "Oh, I know that! I don't mean that I approve of 
 Bob's going in there so much, but" she turned to him 
 with a quaint little smile in which there lurked a shadow 
 of sadness "I make the best of it ; this business teaches 
 us to do that, I think." 
 
 "It is apt to make us happy-go-lucky and that ends 
 us. You know, young Evelyn," he went on more seri- 
 ously, "it is a hard game, and you need all of your in- 
 telligence and nerve to play it. I've worked up from 
 the very bottom and some day I expect to land big, but I 
 won't get there over the John Barleycorn route and I 
 don't believe anybody else can do it." 
 
 "You mean that Bob " 
 
 "I don't mean anything, but I like you both I like 
 your pluck a whole lot, and I'd like to see you get on 
 that's all." 
 
 "We haven't much chance to get on," she said simply, 
 "we are always too poor to hold out for a good engage- 
 ment, we have to take just what comes along. I guess 
 we will be doing stock until the end of time." Her eyes 
 were smiling but the voice was weary and hopeless. 
 
 They were at her door and she waited for him to speak 
 before she ascended the stairs. 
 
 "You can get on," he assured her. "Bob is a good 
 looking fellow, and he's got some personality he ought 
 to do well, but you've got to go after him you can't 
 give him absent treatment. Lots of wives have to bring 
 up their husbands the way they should go especially 
 if the husband is an actor. And you ought to get on 
 yourself you are young and pretty, if you could just 
 cut out this hard work a while, and take care of your- 
 self." 
 
 She stood looking up at him with eyes that questioned 
 and appealed. He found himself wanting to answer the 
 question and the appeal but he had no skill with women, 
 so he contented himself with a friendly pat on the 
 
 17
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 shoulder and a cheerful, "So long, see you at the show 
 shop some hours hence." 
 
 She watched him as he walked away something in 
 her throat had choked down an answer to his farewell. 
 
 The early spring day was drawing to a close and the 
 air was chill and sharp. It had rained during the after- 
 noon and the streets were muddy, the sidewalks dirty, 
 and the whole scene before her sordid and cheerless. 
 It was a poor neighbourhood and the people hurrying 
 home through the twilight were ill clad and hopeless 
 looking. Evelyn's courage ebbed and her fatigue grew 
 more acute as she watched them. She wished that she 
 had asked Harmon in to wait for Bob's return they 
 might have had supper together and that surely would 
 have been more cheerful. So the others were beginning 
 to notice, and to talk about Bob she had used all of 
 her ingenuity to keep from them that the habit was grow- 
 ing on him. And there were other things, a growing 
 disregard of money no thought of the future, not even 
 of the summer that would soon be upon them, a summer 
 that might be without work ; and there was his increasing 
 indifference to her she counted very little with him, only 
 habit and her usefulness made him tolerate her. Possibly 
 Harmon guessed that. She had an impulse to run after 
 him, and ask him she could see his broad back far down 
 the street then she laughed a short, mirthless laugh at 
 her own folly, turned and ran up the steps. 
 
 There was the lace cap laying on the table. Uncon- 
 sciously she tried it on and glanced in the mirror. The 
 eyes that looked back at her were large and brown and 
 in the pale face their size and colour were accentuated. 
 In these eyes there was anxiety but no eagerness; they 
 were steady and honest, but not keen; they did not in- 
 dicate an excitable nature nor a rapidly working intelli- 
 gence. The whole face expressed patience, capability, 
 18
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 adaptability the droop of the mouth added a note of 
 pathos. 
 
 Evelyn laid aside the cap, and opened the box that held 
 Bob's costume. She measured off the frilling and stitched 
 it in the sleeves. She sewed on rapidly, silently through 
 the fast failing light, her thoughts flowing so swiftly in 
 their deep, secret channel that she did not hear Bob's 
 step on the stair. The next moment he had opened the 
 door, and stood looking at her approvingly. 
 
 "Good girl," he said, "nice little wife to fix my coat !" 
 He was in a merry mood, and that meant more than "just 
 one drink." 
 
 "You are a nice little wife !" he reiterated as he came 
 over to her, drew her head back and kissed her. 
 
 She struggled free, choking from the strong fumes of 
 cheap whiskey. 
 
 "Don't, Bob don't!" she cried vehemently. 
 
 He looked at her in amazement. "What's the matter 
 with you?" he demanded. 
 
 "Let me alone, please." She held the coat to her face 
 to stifle the sobs, but it was useless they rose in the 
 throat, and forced their way out. Her body shook. The 
 coat dropped to the floor. She covered her face with 
 her hands and cried heartbrokenly, while Bob filled the 
 darkening room with inarticulate oaths. 
 
 -19
 
 CHAPTER TWO 
 
 THE season of the Empire Stock came to an end the 
 first week of May. By that time the summer parks 
 were open, and the friendly souls who had made up the 
 winter audiences went seeking new and more personal 
 amusement. No matter how great the romance and ex- 
 citement furnished by the actors it was not so potent 
 as the romance and excitement that could be wrung from 
 life in the dancing pavilion, and other forms of pleasure 
 that the astute manager of Crystal Park had devised. 
 
 Business fell away at the theatre, and the notice of 
 closing went up a week earlier than the jaded company 
 expected. Some of the more fortunate members were 
 engaged for the summer, and regarded gratefully the 
 additional week of rest before taking up new work. 
 
 Hilda St. John, whose stunning figure and extensive 
 wardrobe always insured her a good stock engagement, 
 was to leave immediately after the closing for Louisville, 
 where she was to play ten weeks at a summer park. She 
 had been there the summer before, and the manager was 
 anxious to have her return. 
 
 "I was a great favourite there, my dear," she told 
 Evelyn, who had come in to hook her up for the last act ; 
 "I mean a social favourite and that helps you a lot in 
 stock." 
 
 "Yes, I know, people like you, Hilda," Evelyn said. 
 
 "You bet they do I make them it's just a trick. 
 I make those society people understand right from the 
 beginning that they can't patronise me. I don't want to 
 say anything against the Southern people I'm from 
 Georgia, and a loyal daughter, and all that, but they have 
 20
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 a deep still hunch that they are the best people on earth 
 and they let you know it, if you stand for it." Without 
 waiting for an answer Hilda rambled on: "You ought 
 to begin to perk up, and make people like you. This 
 thing of sitting down and being just a wife is all right 
 in a story book, but it doesn't get you anything on the 
 stage." 
 
 "Possibly not," Evelyn agreed, as she struggled with a 
 mashed hook. 
 
 "Of course it doesn't as long as I was Billy Hart- 
 man's wife, I pressed his clothes and put him to bed 
 when he was drunk and played silly soubrettes I was a 
 good deal thinner than I am now. I stood all that just 
 
 so long, then he went away and " She finished her 
 
 sentence with a gesture more eloquent than words for it 
 invited Evelyn to look at her splendid image reflected 
 in the long mirror. 
 
 "But I could never be like you " Evelyn answered 
 
 as she picked up a powder puff and gave a pat to her 
 nose. She was dressed in a pink muslin which her 
 nimble fingers had made, and a poke bonnet a wreath 
 of pink roses under the brim framed her face. With 
 the make-up and the costume she looked barely eighteen, 
 fragile and appealing; certainly with no prospect of ever 
 rivalling the dazzling blonde beauty of Miss St. John. 
 
 "Yes, you could," the latter was saying, "if you weren't 
 shy." 
 
 "Shy?" Evelyn asked. 
 
 "Yes, it won't do in this business. I was shy and 
 sweet myself, but fifteen years of trouping have made 
 me as brassy as a tack and as sharp. Nobody puts 
 anything over on me. How long have you been in this 
 business, Evelyn?" she asked with one of her sudden 
 bursts of interest in her companion. 
 
 "I've been acting three years Bob and I were married 
 two years before I began." 
 
 21
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 "Do you like it?" 
 
 "Not much it might be very nice if but I would 
 like a home where everything was pretty. Wouldn't it be 
 nice to have a garden, Hilda ?" she asked with a sudden 
 breathless earnestness. 
 
 "You should have married that young bank clerk, my 
 dear," Hilda said with a smile. "Lord knows why you 
 didn't not that Bob isn't a good chap," she put in 
 hastily, "but you are too sweet for this rough game." 
 She threw her arms about the slender girl at her side 
 and gave her a squeeze her rouged lips denied her the 
 pleasure of a kiss. 
 
 As they left the theatre that night Bob spoke irritably 
 of the early closing. "They practically guaranteed us 
 until the first of June. If I had known that they would 
 close up like this they could have whistled for me." 
 
 Evelyn knew what their circumstances had been when 
 this engagement was offered them and how delighted 
 they were to get the work, for Bob had borrowed from 
 every available source and their situation was indeed 
 desperate, but she refrained from reminding him of these 
 things. 
 
 "Do you think we can get a summer engagement so 
 late as this, Bob ?" she asked after a long pause. 
 
 "How can I tell I'm no agent. That's the way of 
 this rotten game you work and work like a dog, and at 
 the last minute they kick you out for a thirty-dollar-a- 
 week actor." 
 
 "I wish we had saved more money." 
 
 "There you go, blaming me " 
 
 "Oh, no, Bob, I am not that is, I wish sometimes you 
 would profit by past experience " 
 
 "Sure, I am always to blame I spend all the money 
 I do everything that's wrong!" It was not always that 
 Bob was so violent, but the fear that haunted her troubled 
 him the prospect of a long, workless summer, and the 
 
 22
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 uncertainty of signing up for the fall. He felt that in 
 some way Evelyn was to blame, or at least he would not 
 be in such a condition had he not a wife to worry about. 
 He had acquired the habit of blaming her for everything 
 that went wrong, and her attitude encouraged him in this 
 practice. She either laughed at him or tried to explain 
 if the accusation was too unjust for laughter she had 
 neither the firm hand nor sharp tongue which was needed 
 to hold Bob in line. 
 
 That Evelyn was the soul of thrift and wifely efficiency 
 was lost on Bob ; that she sewed, cooked, rehearsed, acted, 
 and performed the duties of wife and valet to him seemed 
 nothing unusual or especially praiseworthy. And Evelyn 
 had long since ceased to expect anything from her weak 
 willed, irascible, dissipated husband. Almost from the 
 beginning of her married life she found that this new 
 relation involved strange and undreamed of duties, and 
 she had automatically responded to these demands until 
 it had come that she had practically lost her own identity, 
 so engrossing was the role of being Bob's wife. She had 
 not been prepared for this since her girlhood had been 
 passed in a normal home where her gentle mother re- 
 lied absolutely on the word and judgment of a kind, 
 tender husband. It was always, "Ask your father, dear," 
 and "Father knows best, Evelyn." And on these pre- 
 cepts and ideals was Evelyn nurtured so that she grew 
 up with an enormous respect for the man of the family. 
 
 After her mother's death she was the housekeeper and 
 companion of her father, and she loved and served him 
 with a tenderness and wisdom unusual in a girl of her 
 age. Life ran along smoothly in the little Kentucky 
 town and Evelyn, in view of the devoted attentions of 
 Porter Howe, was heading straight into a marriage that 
 would have reproduced exactly the calm, happy life of 
 her father and mother, when Bob Waters arrived on the 
 scene. 
 
 23
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 He came down to visit some distant cousins of his 
 who had seen him in Louisville in a picturesque melo- 
 drama, and on the strength of a similarity of name had 
 looked him up. After much talk some kinship was estab- 
 lished, and Bob was invited to visit them after his sea- 
 son closed. 
 
 Bob Waters was a new experience for Claysville. His 
 profession made him at once the object of interest and 
 curiosity. In some his appearance aroused admiration, 
 in others amusement, for his clothes were of a cut not 
 known in Claysville, where the blue-blooded youths were 
 content with the natural breadth of their shoulders and 
 never sought to add an inch to their stature by high 
 heels and lifts in their shoes. But Bob, with his well- 
 padded shoulders, his vivid ties, the liberal use of braid 
 on his coat, the large amethyst ring on his little finger, 
 and the lilac fragrance that emanated from his carefully 
 brushed hair was an object too dazzling for the well- 
 being of the pretty Kentucky girls. And then his walk 
 the one step back before stepping forward ; the shrug 
 of the shoulder, the haughty angle of the head, and the 
 deprecatory lift of the eyebrows when asked if Henry 
 Miller was not a great actor all the tricks of a stock 
 actor of poor calibre and bad training who supplies in 
 pose what he lacks in mentality were in full flower in 
 this newcomer to Claysville. 
 
 The young men of the town viewed him with open 
 disfavour. "The fellow is a damned poseur," Clayton 
 Smith said ; "I'll bet my horse he wouldn't fight." 
 
 "Might break his manicured nails," Burke Holt said 
 with a sneer. 
 
 To the girls of the town this spelt jealousy of the 
 matinee idol, and they redoubled their attentions. To 
 Bob it was an experience new and fascinating. 
 
 Born in a shanty on the Iowa bank of the Mississippi 
 River, he passed his childhood in attempts to evade the 
 24
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 cruel fists of a drunken father and the exactions of an 
 overworked mother. At ten he ran away from home and 
 as there were seven children to engross the attention of 
 his parents they made no effort to trace the boy. 
 
 From this time on his life was a series of shady ad- 
 ventures, and precarious meals. He lived sometimes by 
 work, sometimes by cunning and then again by theft. 
 At the age of eighteen he became a professional "super" 
 in the Chicago theatres. He was listed with all of the 
 stage door men and "super-captains" in the city, and 
 worked regularly during the theatrical season. He earned 
 five dollars a week and often added to this sum by acting 
 as dresser to some important member of the company. 
 
 At eighteen Bob was a good-looking, supple-bodied, 
 active-minded youth. The bad habits acquired during his 
 precarious life clung, but had not laid deep hold on him, 
 so that when the occasion arose he could cast them 
 off, and assume an air of earnestness and virtue. It 
 was such an assumption at the right moment that secured 
 his first engagement. 
 
 During a performance of Hamlet a great Shakespearian 
 star had in the last act caught the eye of the young super 
 and, charmed with the effect that his acting was having 
 at close range, determined to reward the taste of the 
 young man. The terror and beauty of the scene, the 
 solemn surge of the orchestra, the trailing music of Ham- 
 let's farewell speech, had aroused Bob's emotional nature 
 to the pitch where it might be truly said that his soul was 
 at its window. 
 
 After the curtain was down the star sent for him. 
 Bob, fearful of some infraction of rule and expecting 
 nothing less than a sound abusing, went with reluctance 
 and timidity into the dressing room. This added to the 
 favourable impression that he had made. He answered 
 the questions with the proper earnestness and fervour, 
 with the result that when the company departed Bob was 
 
 25
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 a member of it, drawing the munificent salary of twenty 
 dollars a week. 
 
 Fortunately the star had neither time nor inclination 
 to investigate his "find," and Bob remained two seasons 
 with the organisation. He learned a great deal of the 
 Shakespearian text without once dipping below the magic 
 surface. He learned to wear a sword, dance the minuet 
 and to talk in his throat. He led the life of the average 
 actor whose interests are almost entirely removed from 
 the theatre once they have exhausted the scandal of the 
 profession and aired their grievances against the man on 
 top. He spent as much money as he earned most of it 
 going across the bar; his other pleasures he procured 
 without the outlay of money the glamour of the stage 
 and his gift for love-making rendering this none too 
 difficult. For the rest he slept a great deal, read the 
 theatrical papers, and took care of his hair and nails. 
 
 From the Shakespearian organisation he went to a 
 stock company in a small Illinois town, and for the next 
 ten years filled a series of engagements in the smaller 
 towns of the Middle West where the artistic aim was low 
 and salaries uncertain. But just previous to his arrival 
 in Claysville he had played seven months in a melodrama 
 sent out from Chicago and, on the theory that during 
 working spells prepare yourself for idle days, he had 
 supplied himself with a wardrobe that he felt sure would 
 open the doors of the New York managers to him. 
 
 Then came the visit to Claysville. In all of his life of 
 shifting scenes and varying people he had never met any 
 like these courteous, friendly Kentuckians. They took 
 him into their homes and friendship without hesitation 
 and without question. At first he was suspicious, then 
 pleased. The better part of him touched, with the 
 cunning that his life had bred in him he watched and 
 studied them, caught something of their manner, their 
 26
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 courtesy, even of their accent, so plastic and impression- 
 able was he. 
 
 He flirted with the pretty girls, wise enough not to 
 presume on their frank friendliness. He might have any 
 of them, he told himself, but was not quite sure about 
 Evelyn Lane. She was indifferent to him and he put it 
 down as verifying the rumour that she was engaged to 
 Porter Howe. This piqued his vanity, and he set about 
 to make her aware of his charm. It was slow work and 
 kept him in Claysville all summer. 
 
 But one night as they walked up and down the mag- 
 nolia-sentineled path that led from the house to the front 
 gate, he triumphed. She let him put his arms about her, 
 she raised her flower-like face to his, and whispered his 
 name. He drew her close and poured ardent words in 
 her ear. She was quiet in his arms; there was no fer- 
 vour like that affected by actresses in a love scene, no 
 ardour like that of other women he had known. There 
 was a calm, happy acceptance of his love and a reverent 
 offering of her own love and service. 
 
 Bob was stirred by the scene the night, the scent of 
 roses, the fluting of a mocking bird in the distance, the 
 white moon peeping through the branches of the mag- 
 nolia trees, and this fresh, fragrant, untouched creature 
 in his arms. He thought what a beautiful stage picture 
 it would make. He held her closer and quoted, "In 
 such a night as this, 
 
 When the sweet wind did gently kiss the trees, 
 And they did make a noise; in such a night 
 Troilus, methinks, mounted the Trojan walls 
 And sighed his soul towards the Grecian tents 
 Where Cressida lay that night." 
 
 She listened, rapt and wide-eyed. 
 
 "I love you, Evelyn," he cried, "will you be mine?" 
 
 27
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 And in her breathless way she answered, "Yes." 
 
 "When, dear?" 
 
 "Oh, Bob we must ask father first." 
 
 "Your father ! Ah, Evelyn, love is a secret, wonderful 
 thing it concerns only two people !" 
 
 "But, Bob, I'd never marry without father's consent." 
 
 "Ah!" he exclaimed as he heard that she had read 
 into him an offer of marriage. His hold relaxed and a 
 cold, sick feeling assailed him. Marriage ? Yes, Evelyn, 
 if any one, but his way of life made a wife an impossible 
 luxury. He found it hard to support himself and to add 
 to his responsibility would be madness. He tried to find 
 words to tell her that marriage was out of the question, 
 but in the face of her love and trust he was deprived of 
 speech. His training as an actor stood him in good stead, 
 for while the protest was strongest in his brain he kept 
 up the attitude of an eager lover, and later bade her an 
 affectionate good night. 
 
 The next morning he thanked his lucky star that he 
 had not spoken a cruel, disillusioning word, for an early 
 visit from her father wiped out his terror and filled him 
 with a new and perfect joy. Mr. Lane had, after some 
 reluctance, consented to the marriage, and, on Evelyn's 
 wedding day, so he informed Bob, she would come into 
 one thousand dollars left her by her mother, and to this 
 he offered to take Bob into business with him. But Bob 
 spoke eloquently of his art and his future, which just 
 now with a thousand dollars in sight loomed bright in- 
 deed. Mr. Lane withdrew after intimating that his own 
 wedding would follow close on the heels of his daugh- 
 ter's, and Bob shrewdly surmised that this plan of his 
 own lessened his objection to his daughter's marriage. 
 
 During the second week of September they were mar- 
 ried. Bob hurried the ceremony as he felt New York 
 and his art calling him. They were married prettily and 
 solemnly in the little church where she had been chris-
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 tened and confirmed, and through whose doors she had 
 seen her gentle mother taken to her deep green home. 
 But there were no sad thoughts in Evelyn's mind nor a 
 doubt in her heart as she stood, hearing the mild-voiced 
 pastor pronounce the words that bound her to Bob for- 
 ever. As she knelt she made a little prayer that she might 
 make him a good wife. 
 
 They left on the afternoon train, their destination New 
 York. 
 
 Seven hundred dollars of her money were gone before 
 Bob secured an engagement. She had turned her in- 
 heritance over to him, and the knowledge of so much in 
 his possession changed entirely his attitude towards life 
 and his profession. When he met a haughty manager 
 he immediately assumed a like haughtiness. Offers that 
 he would once have seized upon he now refused as not in 
 keeping with his position, and he laughed in the faces of 
 those who offered a salary that he "could not exist on." 
 
 They were stopping at an expensive hotel in the heart 
 of the theatrical district ; they visited most of the flashy 
 night restaurants of the city, and he insisted on buying 
 Evelyn a dress or two "that looked like New York." Here 
 they had their first clash, and he tested the strength of 
 her will. She would not accept his taste in clothes, with 
 its leaning towards vivid hues and willow plumes. 
 
 At that time Evelyn was a slender, lithe girl of eighteen 
 with a country freshness to her fair skin; in her eyes 
 there was never absent the look of wonder and expect- 
 ancy ; the nose slender and the mouth a pretty red bow 
 she was not noticeably beautiful, but so young, tender, 
 wholesome so unfortified by training and temperament 
 for the life before her. 
 
 After their first clash over clothes Bob lost all interest 
 in her appearance beyond regretting that she didn't make 
 
 29
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 a smashing show like some of the women who frequented 
 the Broadway restaurants. 
 
 It was during this spell of splendid idleness that Bob 
 acquired a taste for the more expensive drinks. Beer, 
 which had formerly served, was sidetracked in favour of 
 high balls, cocktails and other fancy, system-disturbing 
 concoctions. And the money dwindled. 
 
 Then, touched himself by fear, and urged on by Evelyn, 
 he accepted a stock engagement that took him to a Penn- 
 sylvania town. Here they remained two months and 
 from here went to a Maine sea coast village to play in 
 summer stock. The next September they were again in 
 New York, the thousand dollars gone with the first year 
 of married life. 
 
 Evelyn accepted this along with the other surprising 
 things matrimony had brought. She had married Bob 
 for better or worse, and she never acknowledged even to 
 herself that he was not what she thought, that in the fine 
 things he was absolutely deficient. She said that he was 
 wonderful considering his chances, that in time she would 
 make him see there was another and better way of living, 
 and she dreamed of a great artistic future for him. 
 
 Two years passed and found her paler, sadder, more 
 silent, and growing deeply anxious as their life took 
 definite shape. She saw that with Bob's tactics there was 
 little but debt and oblivion ahead of them. He was drink- 
 ing more, growing more sloven in his work, and, when- 
 ever the spirit moved him, rude and indifferent to her. 
 
 Then there were sudden flashes of ugly things in his 
 nature that she had never suspected the appraising way 
 he looked at women in the streets, and the glances that 
 he exchanged with waitresses in cheap hotels. Evelyn 
 was not analytical, nor inclined towards any morbidity 
 of thought ; she sensed rather than thought out the pos- 
 sible shipwreck of their future. 
 
 It was at the beginning of the third year of her mar- 
 30-
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 ried life that she acted for the first time. The company 
 was short of girls and she went on to help out the man- 
 ager. Her part was small, but in the make-up and cos- 
 tume she was an attractive figure; she made a hit with 
 the company and thereafter was put in on every possible 
 occasion. She was very grateful, for it gave her a new 
 interest, and a feeling of security which had been lacking 
 before. 
 
 From this time on they secured joint engagements, gen- 
 erally in a stock company where Bob was either the lead- 
 ing or heavy man and Evelyn the ingenue. 
 
 The engagement with the Empire Stock which was 
 now drawing to a close, had been, in many ways, the most 
 successful one of their joint career. The season had 
 lasted seven months, and salaries had been paid regularly. 
 They ought to have saved a great deal of money with 
 their salary of eighty dollars a week, but there were old 
 debts to pay, clothes to buy and living expenses. How- 
 ever, all of this might have been managed, but Bob's in- 
 creasing disregard for money and his expensive tastes 
 made saving almost an impossibility. 
 
 They had two hundred dollars in the bank, and, un- 
 known to him, Evelyn had saved one hundred and twenty- 
 five dollars. She guarded her secret well, for it was 
 only a question of time before it would stand between 
 them and the open door of the New York rooming house. 
 The saving of this small sum had required great thought 
 and care, for Bob collected the salary and turned over 
 to her just enough for their living expenses and stage 
 clothes, and to save a few dollars each week out of this 
 meant numerous makeshifts and sacrifices on Evelyn's 
 part. 
 
 After the first few words about the summer before 
 them neither spoke again for some time. Evelyn was 
 weary and Bob sulking. 
 
 They walked down Main Street, bright with the light
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 from the ten-cent theatres and the ice-cream soda par- 
 lours kept by thrifty Greeks. The street was crowded 
 with a rough, laughing, peanut-eating lot of young people, 
 and the hard mechanical music of the nickelodeon added 
 to the sordid gaiety of the evening. 
 
 Evelyn was tired, but she was glad that they were not 
 going home just yet glad that Harmon had invited 
 them to his rooms for a farewell Dutch supper. 
 
 They found him and Hilda St. John waiting for them, 
 and in a little while Sam Foster, the director, dropped in 
 for a smoke and a glass of beer. Soon the "show talk" 
 was as thick as smoke in the room. It was how this man 
 made a hit, and how that one bullied a manager, and 
 what a "raw deal" some other fellow had received. Then 
 the talk grew more personal, it was of their past achieve- 
 ments, present grievances and future hopes. All that any 
 of them asked was a fair chance on Broadway. 
 
 "If the Big Street says I'm no good, I'll quit," Harmon 
 said, shifting his pipe. 
 
 "If I ever get there, I'll show them a few things about 
 productions." And after a refreshing gulp of beer Sam 
 Foster went on, "half of those actors down there need 
 a year in stock." 
 
 "Why they don't know an actor when they see one 
 you've got to be a type or a hollow-chested, cuff-shoot- 
 ing Englishman to get a decent job," Bob said fiercely. 
 
 Hilda nodded in agreement, then added : "Well, stock 
 has its bad side, but at least you work right along, and 
 those Broadway productions five weeks' rehearsal and a 
 week's salary is often what you get. But we all want 
 to try it," she finished with a wise smile. 
 
 Evelyn was silent ; she had heard it all so many times 
 that it had long since failed to interest her. She had ac- 
 quired the habit of sitting quiet, and apparently attentive 
 while her mind was far away from the subject under dis- 
 cussion. Some one mentioned the date, and like a flash she 
 32
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 remembered that it was the anniversary of her mother's 
 death. She and her father had always gone to the ceme- 
 tery on this day with flowers. Now he was married 
 again, and she was here with Bob, and her mother, who 
 had once been so important, was forgotten. She caught a 
 glimpse of her face in the mirror across the room, and as 
 she looked into her own sad eyes the thought came to 
 her, "Soon I shall be old and dead and forgotten." 
 
 Then, as though in a dream, she heard Harmon saying, 
 "We are doing a lot of gabbing while little Evelyn sits 
 still, and I bet my hat she'll be on Broadway before the 
 rest of us." 
 
 Evelyn smiled at him with misty, unbelieving eyes. 
 
 33
 
 CHAPTER THREE 
 
 THEY arrived in New York on a perfect May day. 
 The air was soft and whipped by a light breeze ; the 
 sun shone benignly on the throngs that passed up and 
 down the wide avenues ; there was everywhere the atmos- 
 phere of cheer and activity. It was difficult to imagine 
 that a city so fair and alluring contained aught that pained 
 or baffled the human spirit. Even Broadway, where 
 usually lurked a sinister note, seemed a friendly, frank 
 place, tempting and full of promise. 
 
 Bob and Evelyn returned to the rooming house on 
 West 45th Street, where they had passed so many of 
 their enforced sojourns in the city. It was one of those 
 large brownstone houses, deserted now by the class for 
 which they had been built, and had become the abiding 
 place of the vast rank and file of the theatrical profession. 
 Nearly every room in the block sheltered some eager 
 seeker after fame. Some, grown weary with the chase, 
 and asking that the stage yield a living only, others em- 
 bittered almost to the verge of anarchy, some offering 
 with set smile and stock phrases their wares all hoping 
 for a chance to show their worth, all believing that Fate, 
 not their own limitations, kept them from writing their 
 names in electric lights along Broadway. 
 
 As the door of the house chosen by the Waters was 
 opened they were greeted by an Irish housemaid and the 
 odour of cabbage soup. After some parley with the land- 
 lady they were assigned to the third floor back. As they 
 mounted the stairs a woman in a blue kimono emerged 
 from the bathroom where she had been washing her hair. 
 She scuttled into her room at the sight of the strangers, 
 34
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 and from the room which she entered the aroma of coffee 
 floated out. It was the old life that Bob and Evelyn knew 
 so well the struggle with poverty and ambition in small 
 and cheap quarters. 
 
 Their own room they found pleasant enough. It was 
 clean and of good size with two windows that looked out 
 over a small back yard, now almost obscured by the 
 Monday morning wash. The faded red carpet was well 
 swept, the Third Avenue furniture new and bright, two 
 comfortable chairs in "mission style," and a few bright 
 prints on the wall Mrs. Alsop advertised her rooms as 
 "homelike," and to this end the pictures contributed. 
 
 Bob dropped his bags, stretched himself and declared 
 the room "Dandy !" He was feeling bright and hopeful 
 this morning and relieved to be away from the New Eng- 
 land "burg." After all there was no place like old New 
 York, and he whistled gaily as he retied his scarf and 
 brushed his hair vigorously. Then he kissed Evelyn and 
 went out to look up old friends, and as he expressed it 
 "to feel out the managers." He wouldn't be gone long, 
 and he might be able to land something right away it 
 was time his luck was turning. 
 
 Of old this talk had filled Evelyn with hope, but now 
 she scarcely heard him, she had long since learned the 
 value of Bob's boastings. As he kissed her she asked 
 him to be careful of his money. He bridled up and asked 
 why she always treated him as though he were a spend- 
 thrift. 
 
 "You are very generous, Bob, and you know you will 
 treat," she said tactfully. 
 
 Somewhat mollified by this reference to his largeness 
 of nature he answered, "Well, a fellow can't be a tight- 
 wad if he wants to get on, but I'll hold on to my roll, 
 don't worry." He kissed her again and was on his way. 
 
 The arrival in New York did not thrill Evelyn as it 
 did her husband, or fill her with a desire to look up old 
 
 35
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 friends. As a matter of fact she knew no one, and the 
 few actors and actresses that she might stumble on 
 possessed not the least interest for her very few things 
 had power to interest her now, she was exhausted by 
 the hard work of the past seven months. The house- 
 keeping, the sewing, the work at the theatre, and the 
 irregular hours and humours of Bob, her anxiety for 
 him and fear of the summer ahead of them had worn 
 her to a shadow of her former self. Her eyes seemed 
 larger than usual against the background of her pale, 
 thin face; there were hollows in the cheeks and her lips 
 were without a vestige of their old red. 
 
 After the departure of Bob, she faced herself in the 
 mirror and with that honesty which was an integral part 
 of her nature took stock of her vanishing youth. 
 
 "Old tired old," she said, not sadly but appraisingly, 
 "and you can't afford to be old you've got to work for 
 a long time yet earn your living or help earn it," she 
 added loyally. "You don't have to work now, so you must 
 do better." By this time she had off her blouse and skirt 
 and was loosening her long, dark hair. She stopped 
 talking aloud, absorbed in the new task she had set her- 
 self. She shook out her hair and dived into the travelling 
 bag for a kimono. 
 
 In her limited reading of the newspapers, Evelyn gave 
 her first attention to the Woman's Page and though she 
 seldom had time to carry out the directions of the ex- 
 perts she was quite familiar with the forms and practices 
 necessary for the cultivation of youth, health and beauty. 
 She knew that to sleep properly the body should be free 
 of every garment that arrested circulation, that the room 
 should be darkened, but with plenty of air to refresh 
 the lungs; that one should think pleasant thoughts and 
 breathe deeply. Two hours after her arrival in New York 
 she was following these directions, and five minutes later 
 -36-
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 she slipped down the embankment of consciousness into 
 the grey, forgetful arms of sleep. 
 
 This was typical of her practical nature. Though she 
 was anxious about the future, worried about Bob, fear- 
 ful of what would follow his meeting with old friends, 
 and acutely conscious of the fading of her girlish beauty, 
 she was not driven to restless, nagging thoughts. There 
 was much of the fatalist in her. She never rebelled vio- 
 lently against the dictates of Fate ; rather she accepted the 
 decree, and moved away silently to perform some other 
 act an act that might be totally irrelevant to the issue, 
 but that served at least to keep her in the flow of life. 
 With all of her silence and stillness she was never still, 
 always unconsciously moving on, building, pressing gently 
 but firmly towards some goal. Her remarkable plasticity 
 made her adapt herself to varying conditions and people 
 with readiness and facility. Had she married Porter 
 Howe she would have been a good wife, a devoted 
 mother, a kind neighbour, a beautiful housekeeper, and 
 possibly, had Porter pointed the way, a devout church 
 member. Her husband would have set her a pattern, 
 and she would have responded to the pattern with stead- 
 fast loyalty. 
 
 As the wife of Bob Waters, the actor, though she had 
 no pattern to follow save his selfish demands on her, she 
 was a good wife, a conscientious though uninspired ac- 
 tress, busy always with the material concerns of their 
 life, considerate and tactful with people. Since there 
 was no touch of the spirit in Bob, and Evelyn had not 
 evolved any spirituality from the depths of her own na- 
 ture, the love of physical and material beauty was her 
 highest note. She lacked spirituality, but her esthetic 
 sense was well developed in spite of the sordid grooves 
 in which her life had run since her marriage. Soft, 
 subtle colours, good lines, fragrance, she had a real ap- 
 
 37
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 preciation of these, and flowers she had told Hilda a 
 garden was her greatest wish. 
 
 Few of these beautiful things touched her life, and 
 such as did were brought into it by her own nimble fingers 
 and excellent taste, always lost on Bob, who had a weak- 
 ness for the bizarre and wore, in spite of her protests, 
 vivid red and purple ties and hose, and had, as his latest 
 manifestation of taste, indulged in a diamond horse-shoe 
 scarf pin. 
 
 Evelyn slept on through the afternoon until the sound 
 of heavy trunks being bounced on the stairs and the shrill 
 voice of the landlady scolding the expressman awakened 
 her. She had been asleep four hours and felt rested 
 and cheerful after her nap. 
 
 She saw the trunks properly bestowed then hurried 
 to the bathroom for the cold plunge that the beauty ex- 
 perts recommended after a sound sleep. She returned 
 to her room refreshed and ready for dinner, but Bob 
 had not returned, so she set about unpacking their trunks 
 and arranging their things in the drawers and closet. 
 All of her clothes were simple and dainty. A quantity 
 of hand-made underwear that she had fashioned during 
 the long waits at the theatre, and the faint fragrance 
 that clung to all of her things gave her little thrills of 
 artistic satisfaction. The simplicity of her wardrobe 
 contrasted forcibly with the theatrical splendour of Bob's. 
 Evelyn shook her head as she arranged his ties in the 
 dresser drawer it was a sigh of resignation, not protest, 
 that escaped from her. 
 
 When the room had been righted into some semblance 
 of home she dressed and waited for Bob. Six o'clock 
 came, then half-past, and at seven, worn out with waiting 
 and hunger, she put on her coat and hat and went out 
 to look up an Italian restaurant she remembered from 
 their last stay in New York. 
 
 It was a noisy, garish place in the basement of a large
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 brownstone house, where they served a pretentious, course 
 dinner for fifty cents. There was highly seasoned soup, 
 an entree in a heavy brown gravy that disguised the 
 quality of its ingredients, cold storage chicken, some let- 
 tuce with garlic dressing, potatoes and canned peas, a 
 square of chalky ice cream, coffee, cheese, and a pint of 
 thin, acid red wine, all cheap and lacking in nutrition, 
 but to Evelyn it seemed very fine and tempting after her 
 long fast, and the gay, talking, gesticulating crowd of 
 foreigners who sought the table d'hote as a refuge from 
 the grey life of the city cheered her. 
 
 She sat at a table with three of the noisiest of the 
 diners, a woman and two men, one of whom was her 
 brother, the other by all visible signs her admirer. They 
 spoke to Evelyn, making her feel that her presence was 
 in no way an intrusion or a damper on their spirits. She 
 sat by the side of the brother, who seemed especially 
 anxious to put her at her ease. He looked out for her 
 interest, calling sharply to the waiter in French when 
 he neglected her ; he poured her coffee, and rendered her 
 such personal service as she had not received since the 
 old days in Kentucky. 
 
 At first it annoyed and confused her, and she avoided 
 his eyes, which rested with polite attention on her, then 
 she grew more at ease and smiled her thanks when he 
 served her. 
 
 The large, handsome French woman across the table 
 spoke to him occasionally, calling him Henri, and she 
 exchanged a few words with Evelyn, but for the most 
 part she confined her fluent talk and expressive gestures 
 to the man at her side, a large, passionate eyed French- 
 man who was openly enamoured of her. 
 
 Evelyn watched them with interest when the youth by 
 her was not demanding her attention. He told her the 
 restaurant was not so interesting now as in the winter, 
 when the minor members of the great opera company 
 
 39-
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 could be found here every night. He asked her if she 
 liked the opera, and when she replied that she had never 
 been he was amazed it scarcely seemed possible. The 
 opera was his life without it he could not endure his 
 humdrum existence in the great silk importing house. 
 
 In the season he went twice a week, sometimes oftener. 
 He confessed naively that most generally he contented 
 himself with seats near the roof or standing room, but if 
 a great favourite of his was to sing a new role he denied 
 himself other things, and indulged in an expensive seat. 
 He told her what music meant to him, how it coloured 
 his thoughts, his life, just as wine did some men's then 
 Evelyn understood, and she wondered where Bob was 
 at that moment. 
 
 But she shook off thoughts of Bob and listened to the 
 young Frenchman with great interest. In all of her wan- 
 derings she had never met any one like this enthusiastic 
 youth, never any one who loved passionately an abstract 
 beauty, or had a burning enthusiasm for something out- 
 side of their own interests. She knew plenty of actors 
 and actresses who had great enthusiasm about themselves 
 and their past achievements, some like Sam Foster, who 
 really loved the theatre, but in the end it was because 
 he was connected with it. Were people outside of "the 
 profession" different? She had often tried to recall the 
 friends of her girlhood to compare them with the people 
 who now made up her world, but the outlines of her early 
 associations were blurred by the shifting, stressful years 
 of her married life. This was her first intimation that 
 "other people" were different and it filled her with a 
 vague joy and hope. And this talk of the opera stirred 
 and excited her; all her life it had been a vague word, 
 expressing a vaguer abstraction, but here was some one in 
 touch with it she asked him in a breathless way which 
 opera she should see first. 
 40
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 And he answered promptly, "Carmen it is so full of 
 life and the grand passion !" 
 
 She left him with these words ringing in her ears. 
 On her way home she passed the great Opera House. 
 She had seen it many times as it was in the district 
 where Bob sought for engagements, but until to-night she 
 had never given it a thought or a second glance. Now 
 she stood looking at it, wondering if she would ever be 
 able to go in. Would she, sometime, wrapped in soft 
 silk, and smelling of rare perfume, pass through that 
 door ? Oh, perhaps perhaps ! 
 
 Then her thoughts reverted to the young Frenchman. 
 How nice his manners were, the deference, the respectful 
 admiration in his eyes, and she had fancied all of that 
 was out of her life for all time. 
 
 When she got home she again faced herself in the mir- 
 ror ; her eyes were bright and the lips less pale ; even the 
 hollows in her cheeks were not so noticeable. 
 
 Then she began thinking of Bob, involuntarily con- 
 trasting him with the Frenchman his indifference to her, 
 not once during their life together had he shown the least 
 interest in her thoughts or opinions. He never conversed 
 with her he soliloquised before her. In the beginning he 
 had laughed good-naturedly at her ignorance of the 
 world; of late she had ceased to exist except when he 
 required her services. 
 
 But these thoughts, nor the knowledge that though it 
 was nearly nine o'clock and no sign of Bob, could kill 
 the pleasant flavour of the evening. She read the after- 
 noon paper and a theatrical journal, but was soon so 
 sleepy that the words blurred out before her eyes. 
 
 She wondered where Bob was, but she did not make 
 the mistake that she had two years ago, when frantic 
 over his all-night absence, she had turned in a police 
 alarm only to have him come in at five and rail at her for 
 the next two days, and sulk for the next ten because of 
 
 41
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 her infernal meddlesome ways. Thereafter she let him 
 stay out as long as he chose, and now she felt no sorrow 
 over his absence ; his power to cause her grief had long 
 since died out. At present her chief anxiety was for the 
 money he might waste. She sighed wearily and turned 
 out the light. 
 
 It cannot be recorded that Evelyn prayed before sleep 
 closed her eyes. The habit of prayer had fallen away 
 she was not hypocrite enough to thank God for blessings 
 that she did not enjoy, and she had grown tired of asking 
 him to better conditions. She was lacking in that spiritu- 
 ality which flees to prayer as the home of the soul. She 
 had neither religion nor conscious philosophy to help her 
 with her burdens, but she had the marvellous patience 
 and endurance of the female, and youth enough left to 
 hope for a change. 
 
 Her first lonely day in New York closed and she 
 dropped to sleep, to dream that she was wrapped in soft 
 silk on her way to hear Carmen. 
 
 42
 
 CHAPTER FOUR 
 
 THE sound of uncertain steps on the stairs awakened 
 Evelyn and as she lay waiting for a confirmation 
 of her fears she saw through the open window the pale 
 grey sky of the early summer dawn. Over the great city 
 brooded its deepest stillness, and from her back room 
 were excluded even the rattle of the milk wagons and 
 the occasional whirr of the first cars. Silence and shad- 
 owiness were everywhere. Then again came the sound 
 on the stairs and a muttered oath. She slipped from her 
 bed and cautiously opened the door. 
 
 "Bob," she whispered. 
 
 "Hall black as ". He did not finish his halting 
 
 sentence, for he fell prone on the landing. 
 
 Evelyn's one desire was to get him into their room 
 before he had aroused the other people in the house. 
 
 "Bob," she said softly as she bent over him, "get up 
 come on, I'll help you." 
 
 "Go 'way," he said dully. 
 
 "Come on I'll help you to bed." 
 
 The word "bed" worked through to his benumbed brain 
 and he made an effort to rise. Evelyn gave all of her 
 strength to helping him, and he leaned on her with a 
 weight that almost crushed her, but she bore up and 
 managed to get him in the room. He reeked of whiskey 
 and, cutting through this, was the scent of a strong, 
 cheap perfume. Evelyn held her breath in order not to 
 be stifled by the combined odours. 
 
 At last, with great effort on her part and what assist- 
 ance his condition allowed him to give, he was stretched 
 on the bed. Evelyn stood by, looking down on him. Her 
 
 43
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 teeth were chattering from the chill of the early morning, 
 and her heart was beating wildly from the physical strain 
 of getting Bob to a place of safety, but without stopping 
 to attend to her own necessities she began unlacing his 
 shoes. She undressed him as far as she was able it was 
 like trying to move one hundred and eighty pounds of 
 rock, so inert was he in his profound stupor. 
 
 His face in the grey dawn was of an unearthly pallor ; 
 the lips were swollen, and about the eyes a heavy, con- 
 gested blue showed ; his hands were cold and on the nails 
 was the same blue. His condition frightened Evelyn. 
 She shook him and tried to get some word from him but 
 all he could say was, "Go 'way ! Go 'way !" 
 
 After several futile efforts to arouse him, she decided 
 that sleep was the best thing for him. She stood by the 
 bed looking down at the distorted face, and blamed her- 
 self that she had allowed him to go out alone on his first 
 day in New York. 
 
 In her hands were his coat and vest, and almost un- 
 consciously she held them to her face. Again came the 
 strong, cheap perfume, and walking over to the window 
 she saw in the stronger light a long blonde hair on the 
 shoulder of the coat. With a shudder of disgust she 
 dropped the coat to the floor. A moment later she picked 
 it up, went eagerly through the pockets, then through the 
 vest pockets. Not a cent was to be found, and she knew 
 that he started out with ten dollars in his possession. 
 Ten dollars out of their two hundred gone in one day 
 and a long summer of possible idleness ahead of them. 
 She rushed to the bed with some idea of demanding an 
 explanation from him, but the sight of his swollen, pallid 
 face checked her. 
 
 "You beast!" she cried as she gazed down on him. 
 
 "You beast!" as she stamped her bare feet on the worn 
 
 carpet and shook her clenched fist at the prostrate, 
 
 drunken man. A black resentment and wild anger 
 
 44
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 swayed her she wanted to strike him, even to beat him 
 into some appreciation of her opinion of him. "You 
 beast !" she cried fiercely, impotently, while the grey dawn 
 mellowed into another gracious May day. 
 
 45-
 
 CHAPTER FIVE 
 
 FOR several weeks after this episode Bob remained 
 sober, and conducted himself in a manner that 
 allowed Evelyn to hope that his contrition was deep 
 enough to effect a permanent change in his way of life 
 He was industrious in his search for work, careful in 
 his expenditures, and really seemed more aware of hei 
 presence than he had been in a long time. But as the 
 long month of June wore away, and their prospects did 
 not brighten, her experienced eye detected a returning 
 of the old restlessness, the old brusqueness to her, and 
 she knew that it was only a question of time before dis- 
 couragement would exhaust his small stock of patience 
 and throw him back on Scotch whiskey for courage and 
 hope. 
 
 For Evelyn the time had been profitable, for she had 
 carried out religiously the regime planned on the day of 
 her arrival when the sudden knowledge of her fading 
 youth had driven her into immediate effort to stop the 
 work of destruction. Through the month of June she 
 slept, exercised and ate according to the rules laid down 
 by beauty experts. She followed even the final direction 
 that the mind should be kept serene and bent on cheerful 
 topics. 
 
 With the simplicity and faith inherent in her nature 
 she gave herself utterly to this programme and it served 
 a twofold purpose removed her thoughts from fear of 
 the future and Bob's deflections, and restored her phys- 
 ical self to a semblance of its former well-being. There 
 was something of the old spring in her walk, her figure 
 rounded out into softer lines, a soft red showed in her 
 46
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 lips, and the hollows in her cheeks that had alarmed her, 
 disappeared. Her eyes lost the glazed, tired look of a 
 house-bound victim, and in their new clearness gave out 
 more clearly the wistful, expectant expression. 
 
 Often people in the street paused and looked at her 
 in a way that she could not understand, knowing that 
 she was neither beautiful nor strikingly dressed. She 
 did not know that her eyes were a constant interroga- 
 tion they asked a question that her mind had never 
 formulated a "why?" that lurked unknown and unan- 
 swerable in the shadows of her soul. On one occasion 
 Harmon Miller had told her that she had "the eyes of a 
 child who had lost its mother at a country fair." 
 
 Usually Evelyn accompanied Bob on his visits to 
 the managers and agents, as they were looking for a 
 joint engagement, but she left all talk of work and salary 
 to him while she stood by, quiet and secretly ashamed 
 of his method of attack. She saw him, the moment he 
 thought he had made a favourable impression, raise his 
 salary; she heard his pointless jokes that were supposed 
 to beguile an uninterested agent, and, worst of all, the 
 manner, half bravado, half obsequiousness, which he as- 
 sumed when by some chance he interviewed a man who 
 produced plays for the New York public. It was an 
 interview of this kind that formed a climax to a month 
 of disappointment and served as an excuse for another 
 all-night absence. 
 
 Early one morning, before Bob had thought of wak- 
 ing, the sound of a letter being slipped under the door 
 aroused Evelyn and, hastening for it, she saw that it was 
 a card from a well-known agency, one that had shown a 
 persistent lack of interest in Bob and his claims. She 
 read the card eagerly, then rushed to the bed to awaken 
 her sleeping husband. As she read the card to him, he 
 sat up in bed, wide awake and full of interest. 
 
 "Let's see it," he asked, as he held out his hand. 
 
 47
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 She gave him the card and he read the noncommittal 
 words, "Please call at office of Murray and Sykes at 
 ten-thirty. B. Holmes." 
 
 Bob read the card, examined the postmark and read it 
 again. It was the first time the Holmes' Agency had 
 taken any notice of him, and to be sent to the office of 
 a first-class manager rather than to his accustomed 
 melodrama producers was reviving to his sinking spirits. 
 
 "Well," he said finally, "you can't keep a good man 
 down." 
 
 "Is it very good, Bob ?" Evelyn asked. 
 
 "Well, they are just about the biggest fish in the pond 
 and think of them sending for me!" 
 
 "Wasn't it the agent who sent for you?" his wife 
 asked as she busied herself with their breakfast. 
 
 "Of course it was the agent; you couldn't expect 
 Sykes to send for me, he hasn't my address." 
 
 Evelyn's heart sank as she heard these words, for 
 she knew well the agent was sending many others be- 
 sides Bob to be looked over by the manager, who was 
 probably looking for a type. This confidence of Bob's 
 frightened her, for it meant that if he failed his spirits 
 would sink to the vanishing point, and she might expect 
 a return to his old habits. 
 
 As she attached the tube to the gas jet, lighted the 
 small stove and started the water to boil, she hunted 
 about in her mind for some thought that would prepare 
 him for the worst and at the same time not offend him or 
 dampen his hope. She was silent and Bob took this for 
 a lack of faith in his conjecture about Sykes. 
 
 "Why shouldn't he send for me?" he asked aggres- 
 sively. 
 
 "I didn't know that you were known in that office." 
 
 "Plenty of people know me that you don't know any- 
 thing about I'm not so obscure as you seem to think." 
 
 Had Evelyn been quick to see the humour of a situa-
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 tion she would have laughed at Bob's boast, but it was 
 a quality quite lacking in her mental make-up. She 
 went on cutting the bread that was to be toasted after 
 the coffee had had its turn on the gas stove. 
 
 "It would be fine to get into a production," she said 
 finally. 
 
 "I should say so, and cut out this stock game they 
 work you to death and pay you nothing. Jim Rice was 
 telling me yesterday that for a bit he played in a Froh- 
 man show last season he got eighty dollars." He did not 
 add that Jim Rice was famous as a "bit actor" and was 
 paid well to do those small parts which the big actors 
 wouldn't touch and the cheaper ones couldn't handle. 
 An actor was an actor to Bob he knew only one in 
 whose ability he had supreme confidence. 
 
 "I'm going to tell Sykes my salary is a hundred dol- 
 lars," he said. 
 
 "Now, Bob," Evelyn said as she paused in her opera- 
 tions, "don't be greedy; it is better to ask less and get 
 in with the firm." 
 
 "Nix on that stuff. If they find you are cheap you'll 
 never get a raise. I know those guys. Why, most of 
 these Broadway actors get a hundred dollars, and look 
 at the experience I've had." 
 
 "But managers don't know that, and they don't care 
 much, you know. They are looking for a type, and if 
 you are it they want you and if you aren't they do not." 
 
 "Yes, that's how much they know, as if a good actor 
 couldn't play anything." 
 
 Evelyn sighed and discontinued the talk, seeing that it: 
 was useless to try to prepare Bob for defeat without a 
 disagreeable scene. She went busily on with her prepara- 
 tions for breakfast and offered no further objection to 
 Bob's dream of success. 
 
 And, lost in his plans and speculations, he was not 
 inclined to pursue the talk with her. He reached out for 
 
 49
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 his pipe, which lay on a table near the bed, filled and 
 lighted it, then settled himself comfortably on the pil- 
 lows, having calculated that he need not rise before nine 
 o'clock. That would give him an hour to dress, break- 
 fast, and reach the office. 
 
 In his imagination he was already engaged, after a 
 flattering talk with old Sykes. A large salary was as- 
 sured him and his fancy drifted on to the first rehearsal. 
 He had not formulated any idea of the part, but he 
 hoped that it would be something with dash and snap 
 to it, and that it would contain a good love scene he 
 had always felt that if he could once play a love scene 
 on Broadway he would be made. He visualised his 
 appearance at the first rehearsal, the interest of the com- 
 pany in this new actor, the hush that would fall on the 
 crowd at the sound of his first line his rich, rolling 
 voice was his greatest pride. He passed from the re- 
 hearsal to the opening night. He had never been in a 
 Broadway production but he fancied that it was only an 
 intenser occasion than an opening in Zanesville. He saw 
 in fancy the audience; again the hush at the sound of 
 his voice, the applause that followed his exit, the papers 
 the next day the whole of this flattering picture un- 
 rolled before him and swept through his brain like a 
 swift, heavy intoxicant. 
 
 Evelyn and the sordid room were forgotten. He saw 
 himself rich, sought out, flattered by women, patted on 
 the shoulders by prominent actors. It was bound to 
 come he had always felt it, known that he would arrive 
 if the chance were given him. Across the exquisiteness 
 of this mood Evelyn's voice cut, reminding him that it 
 was time to dress and have his breakfast. 
 
 Mechanically he responded, laid by his pipe and began 
 his toilet. 
 
 Evelyn watched him anxiously, without letting him 
 know that he was observed. She noticed the rapt, ec- 
 SO
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 static look in his eyes, his honest obliviousness to his sur- 
 roundings, different from his usual, pointed disregard 
 for her, and she wondered down what new road his 
 vanity had led him. She saw him select the coat with 
 the heaviest padding in the shoulders, his tallest collar, 
 and the deepest of his purple ties. She watched him 
 stand for ten minutes smoothing his hair after the tonic 
 that was to ward off baldness had been applied. As he 
 adjusted the small diamond horseshoe in his scarf she 
 involuntarily shuddered. 
 
 Her interest, her anxiety, her shudder were lost on 
 Bob, who was tasting in imagination all the joys of suc- 
 cess. The sight of his image in the mirror intensified 
 his good opinion of himself and his deserts. Reflected 
 was a tall, broad-shouldered man with a round, heavy- 
 jawed face rising above a high, tight collar. Large 
 brown eyes stood out prominently from a pale, slightly 
 puffed face, the corners of the mouth sagged, denoting 
 cheap cynicism as well as an irresolute will. Bob saw 
 none of the defects. He had always fancied his own 
 appearance, and the sight in the glass but confirmed his 
 previous rating of his charms. His good humour was 
 restored and as he ate his breakfast he resumed his talk 
 with Evelyn. 
 
 "I was telling Miss Howard yesterday that there was 
 no reason why I shouldn't get a job in a decent com- 
 pany. Mrs. Holmes came up and I made it a little 
 stronger to her, and this morning she sends me to see 
 Sykes. I tell you in this business you've got to speak 
 up for your rights so many actors go along taking what 
 they can get, no wonder the managers keep putting it 
 over on us. Look at Bill Holt; there isn't an actor on 
 Broadway that is as good in character parts, and yet, 
 because he is a shy old dog and never says a word about 
 himself he doesn't get anywhere." 
 
 51
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 "But he is always working," Evelyn put in, "and he 
 has a home over in Jersey and a bank account." 
 
 "Oh, well, so have a lot of clerks got those things. 
 We are in this business for something else besides 
 money." 
 
 This reached even Evelyn's embryonic sense of hu- 
 mour and she laughed, but she checked it, remembering 
 that it was not wise to laugh at Bob on the eve of his 
 interview with Sykes. She had heard so much of this 
 talk from other actors that against all the promptings 
 of her practical mind she had come to halfway believe 
 that exaggerated confidence in one's own powers would 
 influence managers, therefore she did not want to break 
 the spell that Bob's conceit had woven about him. But 
 as this confidence was so great now she dreaded the 
 reaction. She left her cup half emptied and started to 
 dress. 
 
 "Where are you going, kid ?" he asked. 
 
 "I'm going with you I want to see Sykes' office." 
 
 But this did not fit in with Bob's idea of his morning's 
 triumph. "You'd better not go with me ; besides I can't 
 wait now. If I get the hundred you won't have to work 
 next year." 
 
 "Well, but will you come right home and tell me what 
 has happened?" 
 
 "Sure I will. So long !" He snatched up his hat and 
 was gone. 
 
 Evelyn stood for a moment looking at the door that 
 had closed behind him, then a feeble little prayer worked 
 from her heart up to her lips: "Oh, God, let him get 
 something something !" 
 
 She cleared away the remains of the breakfast, washed 
 the few dishes, and hid the gas stove in the closet. She 
 picked up the paper, but dropped it a moment later. 
 She was too restless, too anxious to read. Then she tried 
 to produce the cheerful frame of mind that was part of 
 S2
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 her beauty culture, but a feeling of oppression and fore- 
 boding clutched her and would not be shaken off.' She 
 felt that Bob would have a great disappointment and 
 she dreaded the consequences. 
 
 Evelyn dared not go out for a walk or to make the 
 rounds of the agents as she wanted to be on hand when 
 Bob returned. She used her superfluous energy to give 
 the room a thorough straightening, knowing that the 
 maid would not be about for another hour, and she 
 wished the room free of other people when Bob arrived. 
 She had a curious idea that she was preparing the room 
 for a sick person. 
 
 "It's silly to feel like this," she said impatiently, "Bob's 
 
 got to learn to stand things " She was interrupted 
 
 by a knock at the door. "Come in," she called out. 
 
 The door opened, and Harmon Miller stuck his head 
 in. "Hello, Evelyn, want a visitor so early?" 
 
 "Yes, I do," she cried, as she ran to meet him. "Oh, 
 I am glad to see you, Harmon." The sight of him sent 
 a great wave of courage over her. 
 
 "Where's Bob?" he asked as he shook hands. 
 
 "Gone to see about a job. What are you doing in 
 town?" 
 
 "Well, I was out of the bill this week so I ran down 
 to see what is doing for next year. So far not much, but 
 I've got two more days to reconnoitre." 
 
 "Having a good season in " 
 
 "Just enough to get along on, but it's better than loaf- 
 ing, especially when you have no private income," he said 
 with a smile. 
 
 "Do people in this business have private incomes 
 everybody we know seems to live from hand to mouth." 
 
 "Some of them must have money, the way they hold 
 out for swell jobs." He reached in his pocket for his 
 pipe. "May I smoke?" 
 
 "Of course," she said, getting a match for him. 
 
 53
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 For a short time neither of them spoke. He saw that 
 she was nervous, almost hysterical, and he had a desire 
 to have Bob by the back of the collar. 
 
 "Well," Harmon said at last, "tell me about yourself." 
 
 "Nothing to tell, Harmon, just the same old thing 
 no work, prospects not very bright but something is 
 bound to turn up, I suppose." 
 
 "I thought you said that Bob " 
 
 "Yes, I did ; he had a card asking him to call on Mr. 
 Sykes." 
 
 "Well, what more do you want?" he asked cheerfully. 
 
 "Oh, you know what that means ! There may be fifty 
 others, and Bob is always so hopeful; he won't believe 
 there isn't a chance for his not getting it until it is all 
 over, and then " 
 
 "Then your shoulders have to be good and broad." 
 
 "I don't mind that so much I mean I wouldn't if 
 it helped any, but it seems nothing helps. For a long 
 time I've been feeling that something awful was going 
 to happen, and now I almost wish it would. I think 
 anything is better than just waiting waiting " 
 
 "Well, waiting is all right, but you've got to help out. 
 It's pretty fine of you to stand by, but well, I've known 
 Bob a long time, and he isn't apt to think of the other 
 fellow; you've got to think of yourself I don't think 
 the scheme of things requires you to go under." 
 
 "You mean " 
 
 "Just about this: that marriage is a business partner- 
 ship fine as long as it works both ways, but when it 
 doesn't to the ash heap with it" 
 
 "But Harmon " It was a new thought that he had 
 
 given her. There was a way out, a way that had never 
 occurred to her marriage had been for her a finality; 
 you rose or fell with it you never thought of escape no 
 matter how intolerable the situation. 
 
 "Well?" he asked as she did not go on. 
 54
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 "Nothing only you always do me a lot of good, Har- 
 mon." 
 
 "Well, don't let me worry you. All that I know is 
 just what I've seen, but," he went on more slowly, "but 
 I think there is a good deal for you somewhere maybe 
 a good deal for you in this business you've got a quality 
 very much like several of those big-eyed, frail, lady 
 stars." His eyes twinkled, he rose from his chair. "I 
 must be on my way, but stick up for yourself, Evelyn; 
 if you don't the goblins will get you." 
 
 Her questioning eyes followed him. She wished he 
 would say more. There were things she would like to 
 ask him, but the old loyalty to Bob held good, and kept 
 her silent. She shook hands with him gravely, but a rare 
 smile broke over her face as he said, "Cheer up, Evelyn, 
 Frohman will star you yet!" 
 
 "But I don't want to star I want a little house with 
 a garden, and " She paused. 
 
 "And all that goes with it?" he asked. 
 
 "Yes, just like a clerk's wife," she laughed. "Thank 
 you for coming, Harmon, and if you see Bob tell him I 
 am waiting for him." 
 
 "All right so long!" His broad frame disappeared 
 and Evelyn closed the door. 
 
 All that day while she waited for the return of Bob, 
 Harmon's words were in her mind, stirring faint ideas 
 of self-preservation. He spoke of a chance for her 
 could it be? She had plenty of time to think it over, 
 for Bob did not appear until the evening of the next 
 day, and as usual his pockets were empty, and his face 
 dead white save for the blue about the eyes and mouth. 
 
 He was two days recovering from this debauch and 
 when he did his chief occupation for a week was a thor- 
 ough and systematic cursing of Sykes, who had kept 
 him waiting two hours, then entered the anteroom and 
 looked him over with twenty others, saying to each, "You
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 are not the type sorry, you are not the type " until 
 
 his eyes fell on a small round man who bore the un- 
 mistakable English actor stamp. Sykes looked him over, 
 and said, "Come into my office." Bob and the twenty 
 others filed slowly and sullenly out of the office. 
 
 -56-
 
 CHAPTER SIX 
 
 JUNE passed and July came in on a hot wave that 
 made the back rooms of Mrs. Alsop's theatrical 
 rooming house simmeringly hot by day and oppressive 
 by night. This served as a further irritant to Bob's 
 nerves, and Evelyn herself had to fight down a grov/ing 
 petulance and a desire to cry whenever Bob spoke sharply 
 to her, as he did often, now that the heat and a rapidly 
 collapsing bank account had exhausted entirely his small 
 store of patience. 
 
 The month wore on and, with no work in sight for 
 them, the situation grew graver each day. Bob was at 
 last aroused to the seriousness of the matter and tried 
 faithfully to get work. He forsook the better class of 
 agencies and returned to his old associates, the pro- 
 ducers of ten, twenty, and thirty-cent melodramas. But 
 here he had no better luck. Either the companies were 
 filled or the plays not ready to be cast. 
 
 The first of August their joint fund was gone and 
 Evelyn had to break into her secret hoard for money 
 to pay the last week's rent. 
 
 Bob was surprised and relieved to know that she had 
 some money, as he had about exhausted his credit during 
 previous idle spells. On the strength of this new wealth 
 in the family, he borrowed fifty cents from her and went 
 out to get a bit of air and "one glass of beer" at the 
 corner saloon. 
 
 Evelyn was glad to get rid of him, for he had been 
 lounging about the room all evening, moody, and by 
 spells vituperative against the theatrical managers who 
 
 57
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 were so short-sighted that they did not know an actor 
 when they saw one. Evelyn tried to tell him that they 
 must not mind their hard luck, that usually something 
 happened before they were at the end of their row. 
 
 "Besides," she said with a weak laugh, "we can't do 
 anything but starve." 
 
 "Well, I'm not after any such thrilling experience," he 
 answered. "I'm off now; won't be gone long, but go 
 to bed if you like. I'll come in quiet." And he was 
 off for his glass of beer. 
 
 Evelyn undressed, put on her thinnest night gown, 
 turned out the light and pulled a chair close to the 
 window. In spite of the heat and her lowered vitality 
 her mind was too active for sleep, and besides, until the 
 night had grown old and the city cooled somewhat from 
 its day's baking by the August sun, sleeping was im- 
 possible. 
 
 She was thinking of their difficult situation and trying 
 to find some way to remedy it. There seemed no chance 
 of work and soon it would be a question of borrowing 
 money. This borrowing always filled her with shame, 
 and now even the thought of it made her cheeks burn. 
 Once Bob had suggested that she write to her father 
 and her answer had been, "Not with the East River so 
 near at hand." 
 
 Something in her tone had frightened him, and he had 
 never made the suggestion again, but often in his 
 thoughts he accused her of selfishness and a lack of 
 generosity her old man would help her out, he knew 
 it in fact he was tempted to write him, but he had not 
 yet been pressed to the point where it was absolutely 
 necessary. 
 
 Evelyn wrote to her father not more than twice a year 
 
 and when she did her accounts of herself and Bob were 
 
 flattering enough to allay whatever fears her father had 
 
 as to her happiness and prosperity. She had sent no 
 
 -58-
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 letter home this summer her courage had failed each 
 time she made an effort to write. 
 
 Now, as she sat in the heated dark of the summer 
 night she wondered what was in store for them when 
 her slender hoard was exhausted ! She thought how eas- 
 ily they might have saved a great deal of money while 
 they were at the Empire, and what a comfortable sum- 
 mer they might have had instead of this nagging, grind- 
 ing time with the awful prospect ahead. 
 
 Even if they got work, unless it came immediately, 
 they would go into it so loaded with debt that there 
 would be nothing but a bare living in it for a long time. 
 Bob, of course, would never pay the debts unless she 
 urged him. But that was all ahead it was now, now, 
 that she must think about. Like a rat in a trap her 
 mind ran up and down, seeking some way out. 
 
 She looked across the two backyards which separated 
 Mrs. Alsop's house from the others in the next street. 
 Some of the back windows were lighted and she saw 
 people moving about. She wondered if they were as 
 harassed and anxious as she was. Were there people in 
 the world who hadn't any worries? The people on 
 Fifth Avenue, those mythical people whom she read about 
 in the Sunday papers, and at whose closed houses she 
 had looked with interest because they stood for beauty 
 and elegance did they have lives untouched by care, 
 or did they suffer too? Were their husbands neglectful? 
 But in the vastness of those great houses one would 
 scarcely miss a husband if he stayed out all night. It 
 was when you were in one room, where the odours of 
 whiskey and the cheap perfume that spoke of a street 
 acquaintance nauseated one, that it was so terrible. 
 "Nothing is so awful as poverty nothing!" she said to 
 herself. 
 
 These thoughts and speculations were checked sud- 
 
 59
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 denly by the return of Bob, who flung open the door and 
 cried out an oath as he found the room in darkness. 
 
 "You weren't gone long," Evelyn said. 
 
 "Still up?" he asked in a tense voice. 
 
 "Yes," she rose and went towards him. "Anything 
 wrong, Bob?" 
 
 "For God's sake turn on some light." 
 
 She felt for a match, turned on the gas, and as the 
 light flared up she saw that he was pale with fright and 
 that the hand which held his hat shook violently. 
 
 "Bob, what is it?" 
 
 "God, it's awful!" he cried, sinking in a chair and 
 covering his face with his shaking hands. 
 
 "What tell me what is awful !" 
 
 "Young Baker you know that chap that played with 
 us when we were in Norfolk a nice fellow ; you remem- 
 ber him, don't you?" 
 
 "Yes; what about him?" 
 
 "Just shot himself." 
 
 "Oh !" Evelyn remembered him well ; a good-looking 
 young man, better bred than most of their associates; 
 called by the members of the company a "high brow" 
 because of his fondness for books. They all liked him, 
 his grave, courteous manners substantiating the rumour 
 that he was the nephew of an ex-President. 
 
 "When did it happen?" she asked. 
 
 "I was passing he lived just four doors below here; 
 I saw a crowd of people about the door and I went in 
 Hartley, who lives there, told me. I saw him starva- 
 tion got him as much as the bullet, I guess." 
 
 "Oh!" Evelyn said again. 
 
 "He'd been out of work for six months tried every- 
 thing. Now I hope these damned managers are satisfied 
 that's what they drive a man to death by starvation 
 or a gun when he is tired of that! God! It's awful 
 awful he was a fine fellow ! The beasts ! The brutes !
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 The low-lived " His face twitched, and the words 
 
 of hatred and scorn rolled out with all of the bitter, 
 defeated energy of the man. 
 
 Bob saw the theatrical managers as villains who con- 
 spired against the actor. He never dreamed that they 
 were a part of a great, ill-organised business, that they 
 were almost as helpless as the actor in the game of win 
 and lose according to public favour. To Bob they were 
 arch fiends who sat up o' nights planning how to grind 
 the actor down, and how to keep him out of work. It 
 never occurred to him that young Baker was the victim 
 of his own weakness, that he had paid for his bad judg- 
 ment in remaining in a business for which he had neither 
 the moral nor physical endurance. Nothing of this en- 
 tered Bob's mind, and coming as it did when he was low 
 in funds and courage, the tragedy broke his last cord 
 of resistance and sent him home to his wife, weak, terror- 
 stricken, almost hysterical. 
 
 "You said we couldn't do anything but starve but 
 see!" he cried. 
 
 "Oh, Bob, you mustn't let this thing upset you. He 
 was a very high-strung young fellow not fit for this 
 business. You know we all used to say that. He told 
 me once that he would die before he gave it up. His 
 family wanted him to come home. I think he was 
 educated for the law." 
 
 "Gee ! If I had a family that would help me out, you 
 bet I wouldn't stick to this rotten game." 
 
 "You think that now but you know you wouldn't do 
 anything else," Evelyn said soothingly. 
 
 "Oh, yes, I would in a minute, if I got a chance. 
 I wish I hadn't seen him." He shuddered at the mem- 
 ory of the dead man. "He was so white sick white, 
 and thin. You could see his ribs, Evelyn; there was 
 only a thin stretch of skin over them starved! There 
 wasn't a thing in the room that belonged to him but a 
 
 61
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 cigarette butt. He had pawned everything!" His head 
 dropped again in his hands and he rocked to and fro, 
 overcome by the sickening sight he had just seen. 
 
 This was a new Bob and Evelyn found it the most 
 distressing one she had ever had to cope with. She 
 understood his fear, his horror ; she ached with sympathy 
 for him, but she could find no word to say to him. There 
 had never been any spiritual understanding between 
 them, and now she stood before him almost ashamed, as 
 though she were spying on the sick soul of a stranger. 
 
 Nothing she could think of would comfort him but 
 money or prospect of work both were beyond her 
 power. There was no philosophic sense to be appealed 
 to in Bob, no stoicism to be aroused. She said a few 
 commonplace words and returned to her chair by the 
 window. 
 
 The thin gas jet burned feebly in the hot room, throw- 
 ing a sick, depressing light over the cheap furniture, the 
 futile prints on the wall, Evelyn in her white gown in 
 the shadow by the window, Bob crouched in a chair, his 
 face buried in his hands, emitting an occasional deep 
 groan. For the rest, the room was still save for the faint 
 ticking of a travelling clock on the mantel. 
 
 "Oh, God, I wish I hadn't seen him !" He lifted his 
 face to look across at Evelyn. Why didn't she say some- 
 thing to help him to forget he couldn't shake the thing 
 off. He saw himself in young Baker's place his ribs 
 showing and nothing in the room but an old cigarette 
 butt. In spite of the heat his teeth chattered and he felt 
 cold and sick. 
 
 Just then some one in the house across the two back- 
 yards started a phonograph, and a mounting tenor voice 
 cut through the silence of the room, and for a moment 
 shook Bob from his thought of death and destruction. 
 
 Evelyn's mind shifted immediately to the Frenchman 
 at the table d'hote, and his talk of the opera. She knew
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 that the great tenor was singing an aria from one of the 
 operas. She was not familiar with music of that calibre, 
 but the matchless voice that wailed and broke into 
 hysterical, heart-breaking laughter, stirred her senses and 
 lifted her from the sordid room where Bob quivered 
 with fear into an atmosphere of beauty and security, 
 under which there lay pain, but she did not ask that life 
 be free of pain in a dim way she knew that for her, 
 at least, it was the running accompaniment of every ex- 
 perience. 
 
 "That's Caruso, I guess," Bob said finally. "I wonder 
 he didn't starve to death before they found he could 
 sing." Evelyn made no answer, so he rose from his 
 chair. "I'm going out." 
 
 "No, Bob, don't go," she said, coming to him ; "stay 
 here ; you are tired and nervous. I'll turn out the light 
 and then you can go to sleep." 
 
 "Bed !" he said explosively. "Do you think I could 
 sleep after seeing that? I feel as if I'd never sleep 
 again." 
 
 "But, Bob," she said, standing by him, holding him by 
 the arm, looking at him with tender, pitying eyes. 
 
 "I can't stand the dark I must get a bracer give 
 me a little more money, will you? I'll be right back." 
 
 Reluctantly she opened her purse and gave him fifty 
 cents. Without further word he took up his hat and 
 left the room. 
 
 After he had gone Evelyn turned out the light and 
 returned to the window. The first faint breeze of the 
 night blew in and she drew it in gratefully. The singing 
 across the way went on; now it was the Sextette from 
 Lucia, then again the tenor, now a soprano with a 
 magic high note, then a march played by a brass band. 
 
 Evelyn's mind returned to young Baker, and then, 
 suddenly, Harmon's parting words flashed across her 
 memory: "The goblins will get you." 
 
 -63-
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 "They got him," she said to herself. But he let them ; 
 he let himself get carried under or was he just one of 
 the people who had to go under? Was she one, or was 
 Harmon right? Was there some security and joy for 
 her, some escape from the anxiety and sordidness of her 
 present life some release from a relation whose physical 
 aspect was growing well nigh intolerable? 
 
 Evelyn asked herself these questions and many others 
 while Bob was out for his bracer, but her untrained 
 mind, unused to thinking along general or speculative 
 lines, could formulate no answers to its own questions. 
 Only this was clear there was always one way out 
 young Baker had found it. 
 
 "When I can't stand any more, there's that way," she 
 whispered to the hot night. 
 
 True to his promise, Bob returned shortly, with a 
 quart bottle of whiskey in his coat pocket. As he poured 
 a generous quantity into a glass, Evelyn saw that his 
 hands still trembled, that great beads of perspiration 
 stood on his forehead and that the sagging of the corners 
 of his mouth was unduly accentuated. 
 
 She helped him off with his coat, brought his slippers 
 for him, and occasionally stroked his hair as she passed, 
 so acute was her sympathy for this new aspect of his 
 weakness. Baker's death had destroyed the last vestige 
 of his courage it had revived hers. She felt hard and 
 firm and ready. 
 
 The bottle was almost empty when Bob showed a will- 
 ingness to entrust himself to the dark. He did not speak 
 again of Baker. He grew silent and morose. The whis- 
 key leaped to his brain without stirring up his general 
 circulation. He lay in bed, inert, stupid, conscious of 
 mental distress, but unable to remember its cause. From 
 her chair by the window Evelyn heard him roll heavily 
 over. Neither spoke ; the silence of the dark, close room 
 -64-
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 was broken only by the feeble ticking of the travelling 
 clock and an occasional groan from Bob. 
 
 She waited until his regular breathing told her that 
 he was asleep before she crept into bed, but a grey light 
 was showing through the window ere she closed her 
 eyes, lulled at last to sleep by the heavy breathing of the 
 man by her side. 
 
 When Evelyn awoke it was half -past eight. She 
 looked at Bob and saw that he was in a drunken sleep 
 that would last hours this fitted into her plans for the 
 morning. 
 
 She had her bath, hurried through her exercise and 
 deep breathing by the open window, and had such break- 
 fast as she could provide without making sound or scent 
 in the room. She dared not make coffee lest the odour 
 arouse Bob. 
 
 Half an hour later she was dressed, and as she gave a 
 last look in the mirror a small sigh of satisfaction es- 
 caped her. She was very pretty in the pink linen, cut 
 low at the neck, showing her slender white throat. The 
 colour of the dress brightened her cheeks and her eyes 
 were shining with suppressed excitement. A black hat 
 that shaded her face, and relieved of sombreness by a, 
 large pink bow that matched her frock, completed her 
 costume. She drew on her gloves, lowered the shades 
 and left the room. 
 
 Until now Bob had looked for all engagements. Now 
 she was going to try her luck she couldn't be any less 
 successful. 
 
 In thinking it over the night before she had decided 
 that she would forsake the places frequented by Bob 
 of late, the offices of the producers of cheap melodramas 
 where crowds of long-haired actors with their absurdly 
 braided clothes, and actresses whose large hats and car- 
 nation perfume sickened one; nor would she go to the 
 agencies that supplied the cheaper road companies, the 
 
 -65-
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 crush there made the room stifling and any chance of 
 getting in a word a matter of muscle and dogged 
 persistence. She would try the first-class managers and 
 the better agencies, for here at least there would not be 
 a scramble to get in a word, and one would be treated 
 with some courtesy and consideration. 
 
 As she turned on Broadway, a street clock told her 
 that it was just nine-thirty. She was early; the streets 
 were free of the job-hunting members of her profession 
 who would throng it an hour later. 
 
 "I'm early," she said, "but I can wait." 
 
 She stopped before a Broadway theatre to look at 
 the pictures of the play running there. She was so ab- 
 sorbed in this that she did not notice the young man in 
 a black and white suit who sidled up to the frame os- 
 tensibly to look at the pictures, but in reality to leer at 
 her. When she became conscious of him she moved 
 away. 
 
 "What's your hurry, Peachy?" he asked in an oily, 
 friendly voice. 
 
 Without answering she started across the street, but a 
 car and a line of automobiles swept by, and a big police- 
 man took her by the arm "Wait a minute, sister." Then 
 he bore her over in safety. 
 
 She thanked him prettily, and went on her way. An 
 old fellow with a fine white moustache and a flower in 
 his button hole smiled at her next. Ordinarily she would 
 have resented the young man, the policeman and the old 
 beau, but now they braced her up, made her feel a bit 
 of power allied her to her kind in a subtle way that 
 she could not have defined. For so long a time she had 
 had no personal attention, no recognition of herself as an 
 individual that even impertinence from a passer-by was 
 flattering and gave her fresh courage. 
 
 She was not sure where to strike first, but she remem- 
 -<56
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 bered the grave, kind face of a woman in one of the 
 agencies, and towards that face she hurried. 
 
 The outer office was empty as she entered. Behind 
 the brass railing the agent was going over the morning 
 mail; at her side a young girl pounded a typewriter in- 
 dustriously. 
 
 Evelyn paused, wondering whether it were better to 
 speak out, or to wait for Miss Holmes to turn her way. 
 She decided on the latter course and was soon rewarded, 
 for Miss Holmes swung around in her chair and smiled 
 at the solitary applicant. 
 
 "Good morning you are an early bird ?" 
 
 "Yes; have you anything for me?" The phrase she 
 had learned from much hearing of it. 
 
 Miss Holmes paused; she did not remember that she 
 had ever seen this young woman before, and it was small 
 wonder that even her excellent memory failed, for 
 Evelyn was usually pale and obscure in the flamboyant 
 presence of Bob. 
 
 "No," she said slowly, "nothing now ; let's see, are you 
 registered here?" 
 
 "Yes," Evelyn answered. 
 
 "Come in to-morrow at ten." She returned to her let- 
 ters, and Evelyn hurried out. 
 
 To-morrow at ten. She would live on that if nothing 
 else came to her this morning. She visited two other 
 agencies, where she was promised nothing definite but 
 told to come in every day as a great deal of engaging 
 was going on just now. It was a new and exciting ex- 
 perience for Evelyn. Why were they all so kind, so 
 encouraging the pretty blonde secretary, and the other 
 agent that she and Bob never thought of visiting because 
 she was supposed to handle only the "big fellows" ? But 
 now this woman, whose voice fell like music on her ear, 
 and whose fine eyes smiled encouragingly, told her to 
 come in often. Why? 
 
 -67-
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 She did not realise that she was a particularly appeal- 
 ing sight in her becoming hat and gown. The sum- 
 mer's care had rounded out her face, and with the ex- 
 citement of the morning there was a bright colour in her 
 lips; even her cheeks were slightly flushed; her large, 
 soft eyes, devoid of bitterness and lacking the sophistica- 
 tion of the usual theatrical type, aroused a passing inter- 
 est, if no more, in all who saw her. 
 
 Two girls preceded her down the stairs from the last 
 agency and she heard them say that they must hurry if 
 they were to see Mr. Brandon. Unconsciously she fol- 
 lowed them up Broadway and turned east with them into 
 one of the forties. She was as much interested in the 
 girls as in their possible destination their calm, assured 
 manner, their carefully chosen clothes, the floating words 
 of "parts" and "salary" and "Frohman," and other 
 scraps of their talk that came to her. She thought it 
 must be fine to be so free, so confident in bearing and 
 talk. How could they help being successful ? 
 
 The two girls turned into the dim entrance of a thea- 
 tre and she followed. Close behind them she entered 
 the manager's office, almost without knowing who it was 
 she had come to see, and what she was going to ask for 
 should she see any one. 
 
 The office was crowded; four people sat on a bench 
 that was built for three; several perched themselves on 
 a table ; others stood about, smart-looking men leaning on 
 their canes in approved English style ; pretty girls dressed 
 with care and taste. There was the odour of a fine violet 
 perfume in the air. 
 
 It was a well-behaved crowd, silent save for the dis- 
 creetly modulated flow of talk between the two girls. 
 A man got up to give her a seat, and she was freer to 
 observe the people about her. The knowledge that she 
 was as pretty and as becomingly, if not so expensively 
 dressed as any woman in the room gave her courage 
 68
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 to wait with this assemblage of people, all of whom, she 
 supposed, were well known actors and actresses. 
 
 The hand of the clock moved slowly towards the noon 
 hour. Through an open door at the left she saw the ste- 
 nographers busy at their machines ; a girl before the 
 switchboard repeated her mechanical, "Hello, hello! 
 Busy! Busy!" 
 
 Suddenly there was a hush. The men about her 
 straightened up ; the woman next her threw back her 
 white veil; even the two girls stopped talking and ar- 
 ranged their faces in set smiles. The opening of a door 
 at the right had caused this tension in the room. Evelyn 
 knew, though she could not see over the tall woman 
 at her side, that Mr. Brandon was in the room. 
 
 She heard his voice, a particularly amiable voice, say- 
 ing, "Good morning, how are you?" to those he knew, 
 and, "I'm sorry but I've nothing for you to-day; come 
 again," to others. He was now in her sight and she be- 
 held a tall, stout man, well-groomed and suave, unag- 
 gressively Semitic in countenance. With a word here, 
 a smile there, he got rid of the crowd, sending them away 
 without work, but with hope and added self-respect. 
 
 Aware that they all were to be dismissed Evelyn arose 
 and with scarcely a glance at him started towards the 
 door. 
 
 "Did you want to see me, young lady?" his voice 
 stopped her. 
 
 She turned ; his smile encouraged her so that she was 
 able to say distinctly, and with a bit of archness, "I 
 wanted an engagement." 
 
 "Well, you didn't ask for it." 
 
 "I thought " 
 
 "Come into my office," he said, without giving her a 
 chance to finish. 
 
 She followed him in, and he closed the door behind 
 her. As he walked over to his desk she had time to
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 take in her surroundings. A rich-looking room with its 
 fine, heavy furniture and soft rugs, and the pictures of 
 famous stars under Mr. Brandon's management, hung 
 on the walls. The most impressive thing in the room 
 was the broad, flat desk before which the manager seated 
 himself, after indicating a chair for her. 
 
 "What is your name?" he asked. 
 
 "Evelyn Waters." 
 
 "Have you ever been in here before?" 
 
 "No." " 
 
 "I thought your face was new to me what experi- 
 ence have you had ?" 
 
 "Stock only," she answered. 
 
 "Umph !" he said slowly ; "ingenues, I suppose. What 
 is your salary, Miss Waters?" 
 
 She smiled a wry little smile that pleased him. 
 "What I could get not much ever." 
 
 "Well, now, young lady, I'm going to put on a play 
 next month and I've been looking for a girl just your 
 type. I don't know how well you can act, but this part 
 doesn't require much acting it carries the sympathy of 
 the play it has to be a fragile ingenue, with a touch 
 of pathos in her face. If you can play the part, I'll 
 give you fifty dollars to start with, and, if you are a suc- 
 cess, you'll soon be earning twice that much. How does 
 that sound?" 
 
 For a moment Evelyn did not look at him, her heart 
 was beating wildly, she could scarcely believe that she 
 had heard aright. 
 
 "Mr. Brandon my husband would there be any- 
 thing for him we want " 
 
 "No, there would not," he said in a hard voice. "I 
 don't give joint engagements, even in road companies 
 don't believe in them. Last year a man and his wife 
 almost broke up a company of mine out in Oregon. 
 They always make trouble." 
 70-
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 "But I'm not a trouble maker." She looked so 
 innocent that his anger forsook him. 
 
 "No you don't look like one, but I don't know any- 
 thing about your husband. Besides," he said more 
 kindly, "this is a Broadway production and is cast ac- 
 cording to type it was just because you looked the 
 part better than any girl I've seen that I offered you 
 the part. I'm sorry." He lowered his eyes to the desk, 
 and Evelyn knew that she was dismissed. 
 
 She stood for a moment looking at him it was her 
 first chance, and it was hard to give it up without a 
 word. She noticed, with that sight which acts independ- 
 ently of the will, how well his coat fit across the shoul- 
 ders and of what soft stuff it was made, how his tie 
 harmonised with the shirt. She saw the pearl pin, the 
 clear white collar and soft cuffs that extended below 
 the coat sleeves, the heavy gold ring on the well-kept 
 hand the nails standing out clean and well trimmed, 
 but without the high polish affected by Bob. She no- 
 ticed again the desk with its handsome appointments, 
 the silver frame with a woman's face in it, the silver 
 clock that ticked softly the only sound in the room. 
 
 All of this she saw in a second, then by contrast the 
 third floor back at Mrs. Alsop's; Bob in his drunken 
 stupor; the years of poverty and hardship ahead; her 
 self grown old she had never seen it so clearly be- 
 fore, never so objectively. 
 
 Brandon looked up at her and in his face there was 
 shrewdness, kindness, and a sensual appreciation of her 
 youth and beauty. 
 
 "When you get your divorce come back to me," he 
 said. 
 
 "Divorce?" 
 
 "That was just my little joke," he said, then he grew 
 more serious: "But I like your type, it's appealing. 
 
 71
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 When you are free, if you are still young and pretty, 
 come back to me I'll do something for you." 
 
 He returned to his letters, and Evelyn, accepting this 
 as the end of the interview, opened the door and went 
 out. 
 
 Down the stairs she hurried, out through the dim 
 entrance to the sunlight of the streets. Her brain was 
 whirling, her pulses beating wildly. She wanted to 
 run, then she wanted to stop some passer-by to tell of 
 this new thing in her heart, to tell that she was not 
 destined to "go under" that Brandon, the manager, 
 had said that he would give her a chance. She looked 
 up and her eye caught the electric letters that spelled the 
 name of the star at this theatre for a moment she 
 thought the outlines spelled her own name; she paused, 
 looked again. 
 
 "But they may be there some day," she said, "some 
 day." 
 
 As she opened the door of her room the sunlight was 
 streaming in the windows and in the full light sat 
 Bob, in his pajamas, smoking and reading the Telegraph. 
 
 "Well," he said, "I thought you'd never come I'm 
 starving." 
 
 "Why didn't you go out, Bob?" 
 
 "Without a cent in my pocket they aren't giving 
 away food on Broadway, are they ?" 
 
 "Oh !" she said as she drew off her gloves. 
 
 "Hurry up and I'll tell you some good news," he said, 
 smiling wisely at her. 
 
 "What?" she asked sharply. 
 
 "Look here came an hour ago, a telegram from Jack 
 Bolton wants us to join the company immediately." 
 
 "What company?" 
 
 "The Western, 'No Guiding Hand.' They have a 
 dandy route all through the Middle West. I know that 
 time. See, we are to jump to Galesburg. They'll give 
 72
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 us seventy-five joint that isn't so bad better than 
 this." For some reason Bob felt it necessary to urge 
 the advantages of this offer. "Well," he said as she 
 made no answer, "I'm tickled to death aren't you?" 
 
 "Yes yes it's a living, that's something to be grate- 
 ful for, I suppose. Here's some money. Go out and 
 get your breakfast, Bob I'm too tired to fix it for you 
 especially if I have to pack." 
 
 "Where have you been this morning all dolled up?" 
 he asked, noticing for the first time that she looked 
 unusually well. 
 
 "Oh, several places," she said evasively. 
 
 "Tough work going the rounds, isn't it? No wonder 
 you feel down." 
 
 Evelyn made no answer, and by an exercise of will 
 that was almost superhuman, she controlled her face 
 and voice while he dressed leisurely and expanded on 
 the new engagement. It would be a long season, short 
 jumps, sure money "not so bad when you consider 
 what a state the business is in this year." 
 
 The new engagement had no attraction for Evelyn 
 beyond the fact that it kept them from debt or starva- 
 tion and as she looked at it now that was not a great 
 consideration. She was going into a living death. 
 Young Baker at least had rest, but they would play 
 twice a day in small, ill-ventilated theatres play a crude, 
 loud melodrama that shocked every artistic instinct one 
 had; they would travel every day, for the week stands 
 were far apart. She would work and save, and ache in 
 mind and body, while Bob squandered the money and 
 showed himself in gay ties on street corners. At the 
 end of the season they would return to Mrs. Alsop's 
 to take up the old struggle it had happened time after 
 time, and each year she was older. Soon she would not 
 be "young and pretty" she would never be "free !" 
 
 Evelyn had a wild impulse to run to Brandon to tell 
 
 73
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 him that she was "free," to ask him to give her a chance, 
 she couldn't go out with that awful melodrama. Sup- 
 pose he took her, gave her a chance, what would be- 
 come of Bob? Who would see that he caught trains, 
 that he was sober enough for a performance? Who 
 would take care of him? No one, and it would be only 
 a short time before he lost his engagement, and then 
 what ? No, she couldn't leave him, she couldn't she had 
 married him for better or worse, she must keep her 
 bargain. 
 
 While these thoughts were working in her mind she 
 was moving about collecting their belongings, scarcely 
 conscious that Bob was whistling a gay tune as he ad- 
 justed his tie. 
 
 "Get the trunks ready, Evelyn, we may have to jump 
 out to-night. I'm going up to the office to get our 
 transportation." 
 
 "They'll be ready." 
 
 "See here, cheer up this may not be a swell job, 
 but it's a living. We'll save money this year, and next 
 time hold out for a good one." 
 
 "Oh, Bob! will you save this time, sure?" 
 
 "Sure I'll be a picture of thrift." He came over 
 and put his arms about her. "Say, Evelyn, give me fif- 
 teen dollars I want to get my watch out of hock." 
 
 "Why " she hesitated. 
 
 "Don't be mean," he said. "I don't want to leave it 
 it was your first Christmas present to me." 
 
 She slipped from his embrace and gave him the fif- 
 teen dollars. She hated him for the first time the touch 
 of sentiment with self-seeking at its back filled her with 
 a sudden, deep loathing for him. 
 
 "And that fifty cents for breakfast, you might make 
 a dollar now that we have a job. Thanks good-bye, 
 kid, see you later." 
 74
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 He was gone. She stood for a moment staring at 
 the door that closed after him. 
 
 "Oh !" she said at last, drawing her breath in through 
 the clenched teeth. She felt the blood burn in her 
 cheeks, lashed up from the tempest in her heart. "Oh !" 
 this time wildly then came the checking thought: "I 
 mustn't get old and hard I must keep young and sweet 
 appealing oh, God!" She sank on her knees by the 
 bed and buried her face in the pillow, the words choking 
 out, "young sweet appealing !" 
 
 They left that night at seven for Galesburg to join 
 the "No Guiding Hand" company. Before their de- 
 parture Evelyn paid the room rent, and Bob borrowed 
 ten dollars from her to pay a pressing creditor. 
 
 75
 
 CHAPTER SEVEN 
 
 THEY reached Galesburg just in time to leave with 
 the company, which was moving on to the next 
 one-night stand. They had been given their parts in 
 New York, and were to open Saturday night. 
 
 Evelyn's part, being the conventional ingenue of no 
 great length, she had absorbed on the train, and helped 
 Bob with his longer and more important role. He was 
 the hero and passed through experiences ranging from 
 his mother's farewell kiss to the saving of his sweet- 
 heart from an opium joint where she had been lured 
 by the villain. Bob had to knock out two Chinese and 
 in a whirlwind bout throw the villain across a table, 
 choke from him the whereabouts of the heroine, then 
 dash him to the floor, swearing: "Your blood shall not 
 make me break my word to my mother to keep my hands 
 clean. Go and sin no more !" 
 
 But a girl of the opium joint who had been lured 
 from innocence to vice by this same villain enters, sees 
 him and stabs him, making her escape while the hero 
 and heroine stand clasped in each other's arms. 
 
 To Bob this was a return to his native heath. He 
 had played for years before his marriage in melodramas 
 similar to this. An understanding of the situations came 
 easily to him and the lines were like old friends. It 
 was just the kind of part that he liked, free in its 
 drawing, spacious, magnanimous it gave him a sensa- 
 tion of power and nobility. The maudlin sentiment, the 
 fatuity of the comic relief, the mock heroism, the too- 
 good-to-be-true heroine were translated by him into qual- 
 ities of poetic charm. 
 -76-
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 "This is some drama," he said to Evelyn as they left 
 the theatre after seeing the play for the first time, "but 
 that fellow isn't strong enough for Jim Montague." 
 
 "Yes, it will suit you," she said perfunctorily. 
 
 "Yes, and I'll make them sit up with my fight. Re- 
 member the one I did in 'The City of Sin'?" 
 
 "Yes." They were on their way to the hotel and she 
 tried to show some interest in his talk, but she felt weak 
 and discouraged. She had resolutely put away the mem- 
 ory of her talk with Brandon, but she couldn't conquer 
 the sadness that came with the knowledge of what she 
 might be making of her life. 
 
 But soon they were caught up in the life of the com- 
 pany, and New York and the incidents of the past 
 summer grew fainter in the hard routine of their day's 
 work. With few exceptions, the tour was made up of 
 one-night stands which often necessitated the company 
 leaving after the night's performance to make the next 
 town in time for the matinee. As they travelled usu- 
 ally on local trains, there were no sleepers to be had, 
 even had the salaries of the company permitted such 
 luxuries. 
 
 After five weeks of hard travelling, broken rest, and 
 two performances a day, Evelyn was worn out and 
 Bob in open rebellion. But the prospect of three nights 
 in Grand Rapids the next week, and after that two 
 weeks of towns connected by short trolley rides, loomed 
 before them like the promised land, and made it pos- 
 sible to endure present hardships. 
 
 The company, including the manager and the work- 
 ing staff, consisted of fifteen people. They carried lit- 
 tle baggage and less scenery and each actor, except the 
 principals, played two parts. The property man was 
 the Chinaman in the last act, and Bob's mother of the 
 first act was the girl of the opium den in the last. 
 
 They were a kindly disposed, well-behaved, hard- 
 
 77
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 working set of people. There were three married cou- 
 ples in the company, who gave it a stability lacking in 
 so many organisations of its kind. The only single 
 woman was Mary Leighton. 
 
 Miss Leighton was a serious, fine-faced woman in the 
 middle twenties. She was a good actress, giving even 
 the ridiculous part that she played a seeming of reality 
 and charm. She was conscientious, never once allow- 
 ing her work to grow sloven and uneven just because 
 she was removed from the eye of the New York office. 
 In the beginning Miss Leighton had inspired Evelyn 
 with great admiration in which there was a touch of 
 envy, for her ability to curl up and sleep in an un- 
 comfortable day coach. The train had scarcely pulled 
 out of the station before Mary had taken off her hat, 
 slipped on a silk cap, blown up an air pillow, and, cov- 
 ered from head to foot by her long cloak, was success- 
 fully wooing sleep. 
 
 But, try as she might, Evelyn's nerves would not 
 relax in the dirty, smelly, badly ventilated coach, with 
 its sickly gas light at night and the flat stretch of coun- 
 try by day. She tried to rest, for she realised that it 
 was this sleep snatched on trains which kept Mary in 
 such good condition, but as she lay with her head on 
 her bag, her feet resting on the seat opposite, or when 
 the train was crowded, jack-knife fashion on one seat, 
 it was not sleep that came, but tormenting thoughts, 
 wild thoughts, hopeless thoughts all of them revolv- 
 ing about a burning, central question "Is it going to be 
 like this always?" 
 
 She never evolved an answer, but she was helped 
 in her groping toward some definite idea of how she 
 wanted to shape her life by a new influence the last 
 thing she had ever expected, the friendship of another 
 woman. 
 
 Mary Leighton was a California girl, well born, well 
 -78-
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 educated, who had felt early the call to the stage. She 
 held to it through her childhood, through the years at 
 college, and after the death of her mother she took her 
 small inheritance and descended on New York, fired 
 with a living ambition and sustained by the belief that 
 one day she would be America's foremost actress. 
 
 Aware that work, especially for the unexperienced, 
 wasn't to be had for the asking, and that she must make 
 her small amount of money last, she lived for the first 
 year in a tiny room on the top floor of a shabby house, 
 and subsisted largely on crackers and milk and the 
 cheaper cereals. It was a long, hard year, but she 
 came out of it still hopeful, even cheerful. Then came 
 her first engagement, an ingenue part in a cheap melo- 
 drama. It offended her taste, her every instinct, but 
 she played it for a whole season and returned to New 
 York with a fair-sized bank account, increased knowl- 
 edge of life and acting, and the old high faith in her 
 own future. 
 
 There was another long year of waiting. She held out 
 to the last of her resources and again a cheap melo- 
 drama opened its arms to her. Since then she had made 
 many attempts to better her condition, but the stock com- 
 panies which she joined were unsuccessful, and her one 
 Broadway experience was six weeks of rehearsal and 
 three nights of playing. Now she was back with the 
 firm which had given her her first engagement, play- 
 ing the lead in "No Guiding Hand." 
 
 She didn't like it, but it was better than starvation 
 in a New York rooming-house ; besides, in the last year 
 new responsibilities had come, and she had to keep 
 working. Her younger sister had been left a widow 
 with a little girl to care for and no means of support. 
 Out of her salary of fifty dollars Mary sent her ten 
 every week, and at the same time put five in the bank 
 so that the young mother and baby would have a fund 
 
 79
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 when she was out of work. Out of the remainder of 
 her salary she saved as much as she could in order 
 to try again for a real engagement. 
 
 This story gradually unfolded to Evelyn as the two 
 girls became friends. This friendship was a new ex- 
 perience to Evelyn, and compensated her for much 
 that her life lacked at this time. Since her girlhood she 
 had known little of the companionship of her own sex 
 the kindly patronage of Hilda being the nearest ap- 
 proach, and had in reality meant nothing but the agree- 
 able passing of the hours spent in the theatre. But with 
 Mary Leighton a new world opened up to her, and for 
 the first time the waves of the great Feminist Move- 
 ment washed up into her consciousness, not that she 
 took hold of the subjects which interested and agitated 
 the women in the fight, but she had suffered and known 
 injustice and she felt allied to all the women in the 
 world who were struggling for what Mary called "a 
 square deal." 
 
 The two girls had long talks. There was little oppor- 
 tunity at the theatre, for Mary was on the stage most of 
 the time suffering the persecutions of the villain. But 
 there were hours on the trains, and often after the even- 
 ing performance when Bob was still draped about some 
 neighbouring bar, they threshed out the problems that 
 confused and vexed them as women in general, and 
 Mary in particular. 
 
 Evelyn had little to say of her own life, of her rela- 
 tion to Bob, and her hopes and fears for the future. As 
 time went on she grew more silent, and this silence in- 
 tensified Mary's sympathy, and she tried more and more 
 to open Evelyn's mind, to fill her with some desire to 
 take hold of life and wring from it some of the beauty 
 and joy that were her birthright. 
 
 In spite of her own apparent defeat, the hardships 
 of her life, and the thwarting of her ambition, Mary
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 had kept a fine sanity, and had evolved a philosophic 
 attitude of mind that helped her gather conscious profit 
 from adversity. In reality, there was no defeat for 
 her; she reacted with promptness and courage from 
 every blow delivered by Fate. That such a woman 
 should be found in a cheap melodramatic company was 
 a joke that the same Fate perpetrated in dead serious- 
 ness and with an eye to the future. 
 
 "I can see now," she said to Evelyn, led on by the 
 gentle, insistent curiosity of the latter, "that if I had 
 had an easy time in the beginning, gone from one good 
 engagement to another, been in first-class companies with 
 fine associations, by this time a part of me a part that 
 now seems to me the most important would have been 
 completely atrophied. But now I feel so tremendously 
 alive so sure of the joy and beauty and possibilities 
 of life of making one's life. I feel like saying it to 
 my little sister who is letting her trouble crush her 
 to you, too to that poor burlesque girl we met in the 
 last town who was crying because her husband had 
 gone off with another woman." 
 
 "But you've never been married," Evelyn's concrete 
 mind grasping its own food. 
 
 Mary laughed. "No, but what of that? I should 
 probably grieve if my husband did this or that but 
 come back from it don't let things carry you under! 
 See, feel, touch, suffer but react ! Smile at it and push 
 on. There are wonderful things in the world for the 
 brave, but to grow old and sodden and sad that is the 
 worst kind of failure." Mary walked about the room 
 as she talked, and all the while her eyes were on Eve- 
 lyn, who was bending over a piece of sewing. 
 
 They were home from the theatre, and were in Mary's 
 room, which adjoined Evelyn's. The connecting door 
 was ajar so that Evelyn could hear Bob when he came 
 in. He was drinking heavily these days, and Mary 
 
 81
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 i 
 
 watched the anxious lines deepen in Evelyn's face. She 
 noticed the growing reticence and the patient, hopeless 
 droop of the mouth. She flamed with the outrage of 
 the situation, and her consuming desire was to instil 
 into the younger woman some idea of her rights as a 
 wife and as a human being, and in these talks between 
 them she struck here and there, seeking a responsive, 
 resistant chord in Evelyn. 
 
 And her words were not without effect on Evelyn's 
 suggestible mind, but she was taking it in slowly, think- 
 ing deeply, changing gradually "Will this last always?" 
 to "It mustn't last always." But she had so little ca- 
 pacity to express her thoughts, was as yet so unsure 
 of herself, that she rarely answered by word or look 
 these outbursts from her friend. The only sign of in- 
 terest that Mary could take hold of was a constant draw- 
 ing her out on the subject of women, their right to 
 happiness, to work, and to justice. 
 
 "But we have duties," Evelyn said without looking up 
 from her work. 
 
 "Yes, but our first duty is to keep up not to go un- 
 der then you fail not only yourself, but mankind." 
 
 "But how can one help going under? What is there 
 to take hold of?" Evelyn asked without betraying what 
 a vital question this was to her. 
 
 "If it were some general or rather some definite thing 
 that would save us all, it would be easy, but for each 
 soul there is a different way work, religion, love but 
 whatever it is you have to evolve it from your own 
 depths some living, steadying principle to shape your 
 life by. I am not talking to you offhand, Evelyn I've 
 known the creeping paralysis and I've fought it off. I 
 may never have great material success, but my life isn't 
 going to be a sickly failure ! Managers and cheap com- 
 panies, and our hard way of living, shan't keep me 
 from thinking and feeling, and I will not have a crush-
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 ing, choking relation with any human being for any cause 
 whatever. Every soul has an inalienable right to free- 
 dom a fine freedom, not without sorrows or responsi- 
 bilities, but essentially free, for, if it isn't, you are just 
 as dead as though you were six feet under the ground !" 
 
 Evelyn had dropped her sewing and now she raised 
 her eyes in a swift question to Mary, but before either 
 could speak they heard Bob enter his room, and, with 
 a hasty good night, Evelyn left Mary, closing and lock- 
 ing the door between the two rooms. She had heard 
 Bob's hand on the door and knew his condition. 
 
 ''Well/' he said as she appeared, "not in bed yet?" 
 
 "No, I had some work to finish and Mary and I " 
 
 She paused as she caught sight of his new suit of 
 clothes. 
 
 "Oh!" he said following her glance. "Some suit 
 pretty good looking to come from this rube town." 
 
 "When did you get it?" 
 
 "To-day what's the matter?" Bob was swaying a 
 bit, but he managed to keep his voice steady. 
 
 "You didn't need a new suit on this trip you had 
 several old ones to wear out." 
 
 "I'm the leading man of this company. I can't go 
 around looking like a bum." 
 
 "I think you might have paid me the money you bor- 
 rowed from me in New York before you bought any 
 clothes," she said calmly. 
 
 "There you are ! Gee, you are a fine wife you'd have 
 me going about looking like a rag-bag so you could 
 hoard a little money !" 
 
 "You were very glad a short time ago that I had 
 hoarded." 
 
 "Ah, cut it out we have months and months to save ; 
 besides, I'm in good with this firm, I won't have to look 
 for a job next year."
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 "All right, Bob, do as you please, but hereafter I'll 
 collect my own salary." 
 
 "You'll what?" He was in his shirt sleeves by this 
 time and paused in the act of unfastening his collar 
 to look at her. 
 
 "I'll collect my own salary. We've been out five 
 weeks, all the money has been paid to you I've had 
 just enough to live on, and I know that you haven't 
 saved a cent. How much have you got in your pocket 
 now?" 
 
 "What business is that of yours?" 
 
 "Well, considering that I am working hard for part 
 of the money, I think it is very much my business. 
 You haven't enough to get out of the hotel in the morn- 
 ing have you?" 
 
 "Well, I'll get it you can borrow it from Mary 
 we'll pay her back Tuesday." 
 
 Evelyn faced him without a word, indignation and 
 contempt flaming in her eyes, but with a great effort 
 at self-control she turned away. "I shall do no such 
 thing," she said decisively. 
 
 Without further word she undressed and went to bed. 
 Bob moved about muttering sometimes to himself, some-* 
 times aloud that she was selfish, unaccommodating, un- 
 wifely it was all "a damn nuisance." 
 
 "What's this about splitting salary?" he demanded, 
 his befuddled brain working back to that thought. 
 
 "Just what I said. In the morning I shall ask Mr. 
 Bolton to pay me my share." 
 
 "And what part of the seventy-five do you think is 
 your share all of it?" he asked with a sneer. 
 
 "Thirty dollars," she answered calmly. "That leaves 
 you forty-five. You ought to be able to save money out 
 of that." 
 
 "If you are going to start anything like this, you'll 
 pay your own expenses," he threatened. 
 -84-
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 "I expect to do that you'll never be troubled with 
 my support, I'll always look after that." 
 
 "Oh, will you! you're so high and mighty all of a 
 sudden suppose I say you can't." He threw one shoe 
 across the room. 
 
 "Can't what?" she demanded, sitting up in bed. 
 
 "Divide up the salary." 
 
 "Can't?" she repeated. 
 
 "Yes, can't. What's the matter don't you hear? 
 Can't." The other shoe followed its mate. "You for- 
 get I'm your husband." 
 
 "Husband? Yes, I would forget! Well, husband has 
 nothing to do with it I work and I am entitled to my 
 pay and Mr. Bolton will see that I get it." 
 
 "Oh, shut up and go to sleep !" he said irritably, not 
 knowing how to deal with this new Evelyn. He knew 
 that Bolton would side with his wife, for on several 
 occasions he had warned Bob that his habits were 
 against the interests of the company. 
 
 The conversation over, Evelyn returned to her cor- 
 ner, her face to the wall. She heard Bob move about 
 the room, throwing his clothes here and there. She 
 heard him go to his bag, take out a flask, heard him 
 ring for ice water, the knock of the boy at the door 
 and the clatter of the ice as it fell in the pitcher all 
 of this she heard as things far away. She lay on the 
 hard bed in the sordid hotel room with her face to 
 the ugly wall-paper, happier than she had been in a 
 long time so happy that in the morning she would pay 
 their board bill out of her slender savings. This knowl- 
 edge rose from the fact that she had struck her first 
 blow for freedom. Mary had spoken of freedom of 
 the soul, but questions of the soul troubled her little, 
 and it was a less exalted, a more material freedom that 
 she desired. 
 
 -85-
 
 CHAPTER EIGHT 
 
 BOLTON, the manager spoken of by Evelyn, was 
 half owner of the company, and it was therefore 
 quite within his power to make a division of the salary 
 drawn by Bob and his wife, and as the former had 
 suspected he was more than ready to comply with Eve- 
 lyn's wish. 
 
 Thereafter every Tuesday night a little white envelope 
 containing thirty dollars was handed her, and fortified 
 by this some of the anxiety went out of her heart, 
 and she found herself resisting "the creeping paralysis" 
 against which Mary had warned her. She bore with 
 Bob in a kindlier spirit, fulfilling to the last jot her 
 duties to him the chief of which was to see that he 
 made the trains on time in the morning, and in a con- 
 dition to deceive the eyes of the manager, who was 
 growing daily more intolerant of Bob and his habits. 
 
 Out of her thirty dollars Evelyn paid her own ex- 
 penses, which grew smaller as the weeks went by, and 
 the desire to save money gripped her harder. The more 
 she saved, the more extravagant Bob became. Several 
 times he came to her to borrow, but he encountered 
 a new Evelyn, one who would not be wheedled nor 
 bullied into lending. Each refusal on her part was 
 the signal for violent reproaches, and a quarrel which 
 ended in Bob disappearing for the night and arriving at 
 the train in the morning in a woefully dilapidated state. 
 
 The sight of him sent a sharp stab of pain through 
 Evelyn, and almost shook her resolution to protect her- 
 self. He seemed so weak, so helpless against his weak- 
 ness. But from long experience she knew how helpless 
 -36-
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 she, too, was against this weakness. In times past she 
 had thrown her youth, her sweetness and unfaltering 
 devotion into the breach to no avail. And now with his 
 weakened will, and coarsened nature, she knew that the 
 greatest sacrifice on her part would be profitless to 
 him. 
 
 With the more removed vision of these days she saw 
 a new phase of his character, or saw one that she had 
 long sensed, spring into clear and ugly prominence. He 
 stared openly at women on the streets, smirked at 
 waitresses, flirted with girls in the boxes, and was al- 
 ways the first man on the stage before the curtain went 
 up to look through the peep-hole to spot a "winner." 
 
 The members of the company watched with interest, 
 Mary with rising indignation, Bob's behaviour and its 
 effect on Evelyn. As far as her observers could see, 
 she seemed unaware of his conduct; in reality she saw 
 everything, but she went on her way, calm and silent, 
 save for long impersonal talks with Mary. There was 
 never a word of complaint, never a reproach to Bob, 
 but each week as soon as salaries were paid she rushed 
 to the post-office to put the larger part of her earnings 
 into a money order. This was her only protest against 
 the humiliation of her present life this and a deter- 
 mined, dream-like mood that wrapped her about. 
 
 The season dragged on, "No Guiding Hand" playing 
 nearly every available town in the Middle West. The 
 company made the acquaintance of numberless sordid, 
 badly managed hotels; dressed in bleak, dirty dressing- 
 rooms; played on draughty stages, and were on inti- 
 mate terms with all of the old, uncomfortable, badly 
 ventilated railroad coaches in that section. It was not 
 unusual for them to leave after the evening perform- 
 ance, ride in a dimly lighted day coach crowded with 
 sleeping, smelling humanity until two in the morning, 
 wait in a cold, cheerless station for a five-o'clock train, 
 
 -87-
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 and arrive at their destination shortly before noon with 
 a matinee and evening of "No Guiding Hand" before 
 them. 
 
 They bore these hardships bravely, often merrily, for 
 they played to large and enthusiastic audiences and 
 there was a prospect of a long salary-paying season. It 
 was hard, but better than work-hunting in New York. 
 
 Bob was kept in a good humour by the frequent flat- 
 tering notices that appeared in the small town papers, 
 and more especially by the "mash notes" that he received 
 from his admirers. At first he read these to Evelyn, 
 sometimes in a friendly spirit, more often to show her 
 how other women regarded him. But the smile with 
 which she received these effusions and her lack of com- 
 ment, left him in doubt as to their effect, and he soon 
 discontinued the practice. At the same time he was\ 
 urged on to overt acts that would, as he put it, get a 
 "rise" out of her. 
 
 With the coming of spring they invaded Ohio and by 
 the middle of March they had worked east to the small 
 towns in southwestern Pennsylvania just ahead of 
 them was a week's stay in Pittsburg. 
 
 "Let's make it a gala week, Evelyn," Mary Leighton 
 said ; "we can look at the beautiful spring things in the 
 shops." 
 
 "But we can only look. Wouldn't it be fun to buy?" 
 Evelyn asked. 
 
 "Yes, but " 
 
 "I wonder if we will ever be able to buy? It must 
 be wonderful to go in and get all of the beautiful things 
 you'd like. Do you think we will ever be able to do that ?" 
 she asked. 
 
 Mary laughed. "Of course, we'll both be rich and 
 
 famous and happy some day ! But I think I won't take 
 
 you to the shops, they make you long for the flesh pots. 
 
 I shall take you out to the Carnegie Institute we'll 
 
 88
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 stand before Whistler's "Sarasate" and feast our eyes, 
 and have a splendid lesson in grace and deportment, 
 and " 
 
 "Oh, Mary, look at the clock. We must hurry, it is 
 almost time for half hour and we aren't unpacked." 
 
 Evelyn left her friend's room, and hurried to her own 
 to get her hat and coat. They had long since abandoned 
 the adjoining room plan, for Evelyn wished to spare 
 Mary such intimate knowledge of Bob's habits as she 
 would get with only a door between them. The very one- 
 sidedness of their frequent quarrels would grieve Mary, 
 who watched anxiously the Evelyn that was developing 
 under the pressure of her present life. 
 
 The two girls were preceded to the theatre by Bob, 
 who wanted a bracer before the matinee. Now as they 
 hurried along Mary remarked that it was the first spring- 
 like day they had had. 
 
 "Look at the hats and summer dresses in the win- 
 dows," Evelyn said. 
 
 "Yes, and smell the air how fresh it is, and the faces 
 of the people they are all glad winter is over. From 
 now on our travelling won't be so hard," Mary said. 
 
 "How long do you think the season will last, Mary ?" 
 
 "Usually until the middle of June that is, they used 
 to, but the moving pictures have almost driven the melo- 
 dramas out of business. Perhaps it is as well, they cer- 
 tainly have never been good for anything except to give 
 a lot of needy actors work." 
 
 "I am glad they lasted long enough to give us this 
 season," Evelyn said; then added impulsively, "It has 
 been so wonderful to know you I wish I could some 
 time give you as much as you have me." 
 
 For answer Mary gave her arm an affectionate 
 squeeze, and they hurried down the alley that led to the 
 stage door. 
 
 "Half hour, ladies," the stage manager called to 
 
 89
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 them as they crossed the stage to their dressing rooms. 
 There was a chill in the unheated theatre, and the smell 
 of escaping gas; the stage hands hurried here and there 
 sliding the set into place, and lashing it together; the 
 property man in his Chinese make-up ran about placing 
 the furniture and "props"; the stage manager with his 
 coat off stood with his back to the curtain giving direc- 
 tions. 
 
 "Some house !" he called after the girls. 
 
 "That's good," Mary answered, "they will keep us 
 out all summer if this business keeps up." 
 
 "Can't stay out too long for me, I need the money !" he 
 replied. 
 
 Mary turned into her dressing room which was on the 
 stage level, and Evelyn descended to the basement where 
 the less important people were assigned. 
 
 The basement, half filled by long discarded stage furni- 
 ture, and lighted by a few sickly gas jets, was damp and 
 ill smelling. In one corner the members of the orchestra 
 were scraping their instruments in the process of tuning 
 up for the overture. From the various cell-like dressing 
 rooms came scraps of talks and an occasional burst of 
 song. 
 
 Evelyn unpacked quickly, put on her make-up and cos- 
 tume and had time to pay a visit to Minnie Carter before 
 the overture was called. 
 
 They played the matinee to a large and appreciative 
 audience. Every entrance and exit of Mary as the 
 injured heroine was the signal for applause, but even this 
 was eclipsed by the favour lavished on Bob. It was his 
 afternoon ! As the play wore on, the audience, composed 
 largely of women and children, hung on his every word, 
 and after his fight the storm of applause was so insistent 
 that he was forced to take a "scene call." 
 
 After the first act Evelyn was in his dressing room for 
 a moment, but he was oblivious of her presence. His
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 eyes were bright, his mouth had lost its petulance in a 
 gracious smile, he was nervous, tense the adulation of 
 the crowd was in his brain like wine. 
 
 As the next act opened Evelyn moved down to the 
 front wing to watch him act under the inspiration of the 
 occasion. She observed him coldly, critically, trying to 
 get a true line on his possibilities. 
 
 He looked well under his heavy make-up, he played 
 with fire and force, and a certain elaborate seriousness 
 that passed for nobility and refinement. Evelyn's stand- 
 ards of art were not high, she had seen little of first class 
 acting, but she instinctively rebelled against the blatant 
 falseness of Bob's acting and personality. 
 
 As she watched him she noticed that he was constantly 
 working towards the left of the stage, that his eyes 
 strayed in that direction even when he was talking to 
 some one right stage. She moved a little forward to see 
 what attracted him. A cynical smile played about her 
 lips as she beheld the occupant of the left stage box. 
 
 A large, handsome blonde woman, in a blue velvet 
 gown and a hat loaded down with blue plumes was lean- 
 ing on the railing close to the stage. Her hands were 
 clasped in a position of arrested applause, and from one 
 wrist hung a large gold bag, while a ring about her little 
 finger supported a chain from which dangled numerous 
 gold articles a coin purse, pencil, vanity box, lip rouge 
 case and a mirror. The least movement on her part was 
 accompanied by a pleasant, opulent rattle of the gold 
 toys. 
 
 Evelyn watching saw her large blue eyes lift in an 
 answering look to Bob, saw the slow, scarcely percepti- 
 ble nod with which the handsome overdressed blonde 
 answered the question in his eyes. She watched this 
 drama of attraction play itself out with as much detach- 
 ment as though it in no way concerned her. Even when 
 the woman in the box took from her bag a card and wrote 
 
 91
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 on it with a gold pencil she felt not a flutter of jealousy 
 and the enigmatical smile never left her mouth. At that 
 moment a stage hand came up by her and peered out at 
 the audience. 
 
 "Some swell dame," he said, "the one wid the feathers 
 on her lid." 
 
 "Yes," Evelyn answered, "who is she?" 
 
 "The widder of a guy that used to keep the saloon on 
 the corner. She's always in that box very fond of the 
 drama!" he said in his wise way and passed on. 
 
 Evelyn moved up stage to make her entrance, and as 
 she waited for her cue, she heard the same stage hand 
 say to some one behind the drop: 
 
 "Blue Bess is on the job copped another actor." 
 
 "The poor simp," the other answered ; "what she sees 
 in them guys I hear she loads them up with cham- 
 pagne- 
 Evelyn's cue came, she pulled herself up sharply and 
 went on as the tripping, gurgling ingenue. 
 
 The final curtain rang down, and she hurried to her 
 dressing room, aware that the members of the company 
 were looking at her with kindly, questioning eyes. They 
 had all seen Bob's flirtation, and they resented it for her. 
 
 While she was undressing, Minnie Carter came in to 
 chat with her. She knew it was sympathy that brought 
 Minnie in though she talked of everything but what was 
 on her mind. 
 
 Minnie was the wife of Joe Carter who played the 
 heavy. She had no part in the play, but travelled with 
 her husband, and for her transportation performed the 
 duties of general understudy to the women of the com- 
 pany. She was a simple soul, happy in her marriage, and 
 full of thrifty housewifely ways which no amount of 
 shifting and changing could destroy. She and Joe lived 
 and saved money on their small salary, and dreamed of
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 the summer before them that would be spent with the 
 old folks on the farm in Connecticut. 
 
 She came in to see Evelyn, she said, to tell her about a 
 restaurant where one could get "an elegant supper for 
 a quarter." 
 
 "I don't see how they do it," she went on, "soup, 
 roast beef, two vegetables and pie, and it is all good!" 
 
 "That is cheap," Evelyn assented. 
 
 "We are going you and Mary come along if you want 
 to and Bob too, of course," she added hastily. 
 
 "Thanks, Minnie, but we are living American plan. 
 Sit down, won't you?" 
 
 "No, I guess I'll run along, Joe is out before I know 
 it." She bent over Evelyn who was seated before the 
 make-up table, and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. 
 "See you later you've got such pretty hair, Evelyn," 
 and with a final sympathetic pat she flounced out of the 
 room leaving Evelyn facing her own image in the 
 mirror. 
 
 Of old, the gentleness of Minnie would have touched 
 her almost to tears, but now steady, tearless eyes looked 
 back at her from the glass, and a mouth without a quiver 
 in its red line was reflected. 
 
 She thrust her hand mechanically into the cold cream 
 jar, smeared her face with it, wiped it off with cheese- 
 cloth, without taking her eyes away from the reflection 
 in the mirror there was something about the sternness 
 of the face that fascinated her. 
 
 As she was putting on her street clothes Mary entered, 
 ready to go home. 
 
 "Not dressed yet ?" she asked. 
 
 "In just a second," she answered, and finished her 
 dressing in silence, oblivious of Mary's uneasy glances. 
 As she took up her purse and turned off the lights 
 Mary asked if they were to wait for Bob. 
 
 "Suppose he has gone some time ago." 
 
 93
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 "He is never out before we are shall I call him?" 
 
 "No, let's go on," Evelyn answered. 
 
 They crossed the dimly lighted stage where the men 
 were taking down the last act set to make ready for the 
 evening performance, opened the narrow stage door and 
 let themselves out into the dark, ill-smelling alley. As 
 Mary appeared a chorus of voices cried, "There she is 
 there she is!" 
 
 It was a group of young girls gathered to pay their 
 respects to the leading lady. She smiled and bowed, and 
 taking Evelyn's arm hurried up the alley to the street. 
 
 "We've lots of time, suppose we take a walk before 
 dinner," Mary suggested. 
 
 "Why " 
 
 "Yes," she said, without giving Evelyn a chance to 
 protest, "there is a fine long street here with beautiful 
 homes, and at the end you get right into the country. 
 Let's go where human beings live and forget that we are 
 just tramps." 
 
 Evelyn smiled, and falling in with Mary's gait walked 
 on. Suddenly Mary called her attention sharply to a 
 hat in a shop window, but it was too late, for Evelyn 
 had already seen Bob and the handsome overdressed 
 blonde across the street. They were about to step into 
 a large touring car that waited at the curb. For a moment 
 Evelyn paused, then turned, and commented on the hat 
 in the shop window. 
 
 Ten minutes before the curtain was ready to go up for 
 the evening performance, Bob rushed into the theatre, 
 dashed past the anxious stage manager into his dress- 
 ing room, calling out as he slammed the door, "I'll be 
 ready on time." 
 
 As he was tearing off his clothes there was a knock 
 at his door and in answer to his "come in," Bolton, the 
 business manager, appeared. 
 94
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 "We'll not stand for this sort of thing," he said, look- 
 ing sternly at Bob. "They sent for me to the front of 
 the house everybody's wild this is no way to attend to 
 business ! That house out there is packed, and you 
 staying out like a loafer!" 
 
 "You might have known I'd be here," Bob protested. 
 "I'm a reliable man, never failed anybody yet." A fine 
 dinner with the unusual accompaniment of champagne 
 had given Bob courage to make any statement. 
 
 "No man is reliable when he is drunk," Bolton said 
 cuttingly. 
 
 "Drunk I ?" Bob inquired defiantly. 
 
 "Ah, cut it and get ready, and don't let it happen again. 
 The next time you go back to New York." 
 
 He left the room, and Bob threw off his street clothes, 
 made up his face and slipped on his stage apparel. Bol- 
 ton's reprimand had made no impression on him, for he 
 whistled as he dressed, smiled at himself in the mirror, 
 and emerged from his room before the overture was half 
 over in the character of Jim Montague. No member of 
 the company greeted him, the stage carpenter even emit- 
 ted a contemptuous grunt as he passed. They all were 
 too sympathetic with Evelyn to countenance him just 
 now, but Bob scarcely noticed their attitude; if he did 
 he put it down to some lurking jealousy of his popularity. 
 
 The play ran through smoothly; the large audience 
 picking up every point and laughing at exactly the right 
 time. Bob played with unusual fire, urged on by the 
 blue eyes which again beamed on him from the left stage 
 box. 
 
 Bob did not speak to his wife during the evening, nor 
 did she approach him ; her one desire was to keep away 
 from him. She dreaded the one little scene they had 
 together in the last act, for then she must look in his 
 eyes, take his hand, and speak to him in a sweet, cordial 
 ingenue way, and he replied in speeches that breathed 
 
 95
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 kindness and manhood. The scene had always seemed 
 to her unnatural, and now it so offended her sense of 
 fitness that she had to brace herself to go on neither 
 by training nor temperament was she adapted to over- 
 laying her own emotions with those of a character's. 
 
 However, she entered bravely, and as the scene pro- 
 gressed she felt that it was passing off very well, when 
 suddenly Bob's eyes shifted from her to the box. She 
 followed them and caught the smile that passed between 
 him and the blonde woman. She had the next speech, but 
 one of those sudden flashes of feeling of which she was 
 capable cut through her self-control, and sent a choke to 
 her throat, and blinding tears to her eyes. For a mo- 
 ment she could not speak, and Bob, thinking her mem- 
 ory had failed, threw her a line. She picked it up and 
 went on with the scene. 
 
 Afterwards she could not remember how she got 
 through it, and off the stage to her dressing-room. She 
 only knew that she was filled with a wild pain and an 
 implacable anger. She shut herself in the dingy ill- 
 lighted room ; she caught the back of a chair, and gripped 
 it hard ; the breath came in little short gasps ; her bosom 
 rose and fell as though it were pushing up the sobs. 
 The shame, the torture of her life she had never seen 
 before so clearly now with one backward glance she 
 saw the brutality that had killed her youth, the long years 
 of hard work and poverty, rendered almost unbearable 
 by his improvidence and indifference. Like a swift 
 searchlight, her mind played over last summer that ter- 
 rible summer in New York, the night she thought that 
 he was dying, the night she found the blonde hair on 
 his coat the hot night that young Baker killed him- 
 self, her husband's terror, and his drunken sleep after- 
 wards, while she listened to the music across the way 
 and thought of her possible end an end like Baker's. 
 
 All that, and now this crowning shame! She cov- 
 96
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 ered her face with her shaking hands, and through the 
 clenched teeth, through the hard-pressed hands, the cry 
 of her soul forced its way out: "Oh, God! not much 
 longer not much " 
 
 She heard her name called, and pulling herself together 
 went out to take up her cue. Her lips trembled so 
 that she could scarcely speak her lines, but as the act 
 went on she grew calmer, and a heavy, sullen mood set- 
 tled over her that crushed out the last vestige of hysteria. 
 
 The play over, she dressed, and packed her trunk. She 
 and Mary walked to the hotel in silence. They got their 
 keys from the office, left six-o'clock calls, and mounted 
 the stairs. 
 
 "Come in, Evelyn," Mary said when they reached her 
 door, "or do you want to undress first ?" 
 
 "I think I'll go right to bed we have such an early 
 jump." 
 
 "Come in, let me make you a hot malted milk, it'll help 
 you to sleep," Mary insisted. 
 
 "Thank you, not to-night I'll sleep. Good night." 
 Her mood would not yield even to Mary. 
 
 "Evelyn dear," Mary said, laying a detaining hand on 
 her arm, but a shudder passed over Evelyn, and Mary 
 withdrew her hand. "Come to me if you want anything," 
 she said gently. 
 
 Evelyn nodded and walked down the hall to her room. 
 She unlocked the door and stood for a moment looking 
 into the room. The gas burned low ; the room was close 
 and hot a maid, fearing rain, had been in and shut the 
 windows ; it gave off a musty, sordid smell that Evelyn 
 had come to know so well on this tour. 
 
 She turned up the gas, opened the windows, and moved 
 about, putting things to rights, all the while listening 
 for the sound of Bob's hand on the doorknob. She knew 
 there was no chance of his coming for hours, but her wish 
 to have him come was so intense that she felt it must 
 
 97
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 somehow draw him. She wanted him to come, wanted 
 to give vent to the rage that was smouldering in her heart 
 one word, even the sight of him, would fan it into 
 a great flame. 
 
 But the night wore on without the coming of Bob. 
 At one o'clock she had recovered her poise enough to 
 get ready for bed. She made her preparations slowly, 
 turned out the light, crept into bed, huddling close to the 
 wall. Lying there, wide-eyed, sleep-deserted, in the dark, 
 she waited. 
 
 The town clock struck two, three, and soon after she 
 heard the door open, heard Bob stumble against a chair, 
 and the favourite oath that followed. He struck a match 
 and the gas flared up, blinding her with its sudden light. 
 She kept her face to the wall, and covered her eyes with 
 her arm. After a pause Bob spoke. 
 
 "Any ice water?" he asked thickly. 
 
 "No." 
 
 "What time does train go in the morning?" 
 
 "Seven." 
 
 "Shall I set the clock?" He picked it up and fum- 
 bled clumsily with it. 
 
 "I set it," Evelyn said from her corner. 
 
 For some time after this there was silence in the room, 
 broken only by the laboured breathing of Bob as he un- 
 dressed slowly. In her corner Evelyn fought down her 
 desire to rise and denounce him the old habit of self- 
 control was standing her in good stead, and the night 
 might have been passed in outward peace had not Bob's 
 necessities urged him on to further talk. 
 
 "Did you pay the bill?" He came over and sat down 
 on the edge of the bed. 
 
 "No," in a hard voice. 
 
 "Well, you'll have to it's the end of the week. I'm 
 broke I'll pay you back to-morrow." 
 -98-
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 Evelyn sat straight up in bed, and looked at him. "Pay 
 your bill pay your bill?" 
 
 "That's what I said," he snarled. 
 
 "You infamous, low beast you ask me for money 
 after to-day?" 
 
 "Well, I can't get out of here, if you don't leave me 
 here, the show can't go on." 
 
 "You get it from Mr. Bolton," she advised. 
 
 "Ah, won't get anything from him he's a you give 
 me the money." 
 
 "As long as you live, you'll never get another cent of 
 my money remember that." 
 
 "Is that so well, I will too, you're my wife I've got 
 a right " 
 
 He took up her purse from the dresser and was about 
 to open it, but with one leap she was by him and had 
 snatched the purse from his hands, glaring at him with 
 flaming, indignant eyes. 
 
 "Don't you dare why don't you borrow from the 
 saloonkeeper's widow ?" 
 
 "Spying eh ?" He rocked unsteadily before her. 
 
 "Spying everybody in the theatre saw, and I saw 
 you in the car after the matinee she was there to-night." 
 
 "You're jealous well, if you want to hold a man " 
 
 "Jealous of you ?" she asked with a scorn that cut 
 through his drunken stupor. "Jealous of you? I wish 
 she had you but she wouldn't take you as a gift she 
 is in that box at every matinee she picks up all of the 
 leading men." 
 
 "That's a lie!" 
 
 "Oh, no, it isn't it's the stage hands' best joke, but 
 your conceit, your vanity made you think that your strut- 
 ting, your frowning, your bellowing made a hit you 
 poor fool!" 
 
 "Damn you!" he cried, and swung his right hand, 
 hitting her just above the left eye.
 
 The Least Resistance- 
 
 Evelyn staggered under the blow and caught the end 
 of the bed for support. She swayed there for a moment, 
 then raised her hand to her brow, and when she brought 
 it down there was blood on it the ring on his finger had 
 broken the skin. 
 
 She went to the washstand and wiped the blood away. 
 It flowed a little, then stopped. She could feel the swell- 
 ing rising rapidly ; there was a heaviness in her head and 
 an occasional sharp, shooting pain. 
 
 Bob had not taken his eyes off of her since the blow, 
 but she was apparently unconscious of his gaze. Had 
 she made some outcry, uttered some reproach, he would 
 have begged her forgiveness, been full of contrition it 
 was the first time he had ever struck her, and he was 
 frightened until this moment he had never thought of 
 himself as a bad husband. But her silence gave him no 
 chance for an emotional reconciliation. 
 
 When the blood had ceased to flow, Evelyn began to 
 dress. This done, her few possessions were thrust into 
 her bag; next she took five dollars from her purse and laid 
 it on the table. Then, without a word, she opened the 
 door and passed out into the dark hall. 
 
 All her anger was gone ; she felt almost kindly towards 
 him. The blow that cut her forehead and sent sharp 
 pains through her head had, in a twinkling, crystallised 
 the vague hopes and desires of the past months. She no 
 longer had a doubt nor a hesitation the blow had set 
 her free! 
 
 She stole down the creaking stairs to the office below. 
 Night was still over the world, and a sickly gas jet burn- 
 ing over the desk illumined the dirty, sordid office. In a 
 chair the night porter slept and snored it was the only 
 sound that broke the deep stillness. Evelyn moved cau- 
 tiously to the desk and wrote two notes one to the 
 manager which read, "My dear Mr. Bolton I am sorry 
 to leave the company in this way, but I can't stay any 
 100
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 longer. I would not go, however, now, if Minnie Carter 
 were not up in my part. She may have my clothes, so 
 you won't be inconvenienced. Please forgive me and 
 accept my thanks for your unfailing kindness to me." 
 
 The next was to Mary and even here she could not 
 bring herself to an explanation. "Good-bye, dear," she 
 wrote, "I can't stay any longer perhaps you understand. 
 Minnie is up in my part and I want her to have my 
 clothes. Will you take them out of my trunk and then 
 send trunk on to address below? Don't give address to 
 any one. I'll see you again; in the meantime you have 
 my wishes for success and happiness, but I am afraid you 
 will have to get out of this business to find the last." 
 In this letter she sealed the trunk key. 
 
 Her letters finished, she turned to the window, and 
 saw in the east the lifting of night a pale grey marked 
 the approach of day; a milk wagon rattled past, fol- 
 lowed by the clang of an early trolley car. Six feet from 
 her the porter slept in his chair, his snores breaking the 
 stillness of the office gave her a bit of comfort her 
 isolation seemed less complete. 
 
 From a time-table hanging over the desk she learned 
 that the interurban connecting with Pittsburg would pass 
 in fifteen minutes. 
 
 She consulted the register, ran cautiously upstairs, 
 slipped the note for Bolton under his door and disposed 
 of Mary's in the same way. 
 
 When she reached the office again she snatched up 
 her bag, tiptoed across the floor, opened the door, and 
 stood for a moment gazing about at a world strange and 
 weird in the chill, pale dawn. 
 
 The cool morning air struck her hot forehead and 
 revived her she drew herself up and drank it in grate- 
 fully. 
 
 A long green car rounded the corner ; she signalled it, 
 and stepped aboard. She sat by an open window and 
 
 101
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 watched the sun come up and gild the countryside. Her 
 mind was clear, her heart untroubled. She did not think 
 of the past, nor did her thoughts wander to the future; 
 she was drinking deep of the peace that had come with 
 the new freedom. 
 
 102
 
 CHAPTER NINE 
 
 TWENTY-FOUR hours after her flight from "No 
 Guiding Hand," Evelyn was in New York. With 
 that directness which characterised her actions, once she 
 felt the need of action, she had come straight back to the 
 heart of things theatrical. 
 
 She established herself in a hall bedroom on the top 
 floor of a rooming house, for which she had to pay three 
 dollars a week. She cooked breakfasts on an alcohol 
 stove, heated a can of soup for lunch, and dined in the 
 cheap restaurants of the neighbourhood. It was a cheer- 
 less, lonely life, but it was free from the demands of a 
 drunken, brutal husband, and for this she was grateful. 
 
 The swelling over her eye had gone down but there 
 was an ugly blue bruise that kept her away from man- 
 agers and agents for the first few days. She treated it 
 with all of the simple remedies that she had ever heard 
 of, and by the time her trunk arrived and she had her 
 clothes out and pressed, there was only a yellow stain, 
 easily concealed by a coat of powder. 
 
 The first days that she ventured out to look for an 
 engagement she was desperately shy often she knocked 
 at a door, only to run away before it could be opened. 
 But as time went on she fell into the rhythm of job 
 hunting, and her courage grew until she could put the 
 stock question, "Anything doing to-day ?" with the assur- 
 ance of an old campaigner. 
 
 She started on her rounds early in the morning, and it 
 was late in the afternoon before her activities ceased. By 
 this persistence the agents soon came to know her, and 
 she was sent oftener as the days went on to interview 
 
 103
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 managers who were looking for ingenues. But always 
 she was too tall or too young or not young enough, or 
 too fair or not blonde enough she always fell just short 
 of what was wanted, and the phrase that covered the 
 objection of each and every manager was, "You are not 
 the type !" 
 
 After she had heard this a number of times, she took 
 to studying her face in the glass, wondering why she 
 wasn't a "type" and if she wasn't a "type" what was she? 
 She had no one to tell her that she was so pronounced a 
 type that until a part called for exactly her peculiar ap- 
 pearance there was small chance of her getting work. 
 
 The wistful, patient, questioning eyes, the delicate nose, 
 the mouth with its unconscious, sad smile, the muted 
 music of her personality were lost on the men with whom 
 she came in contact. In competition with the girls of 
 colour and life and vitality who formed the ranks of the 
 profession she stood little chance. There were managers, 
 inaccessible to a girl in her position, who would have 
 recognised in her the quality that, by its very lack of 
 theatricalism, had enormous commercial and artistic value 
 in the theatre. But Evelyn's operations were confined to 
 the smaller and less astute managers and she was having 
 an uphill time of it. 
 
 As she studied her face in the mirror, and wondered 
 what type she was, there suddenly flashed across her 
 memory Brandon's words to her last summer when he 
 had offered her a chance. 
 
 "I like your type," he had said. 
 
 So there was hope for her. He was one of the big 
 managers, and he had told her to come back when she 
 was divorced. She wasn't that, but she was free, and 
 she would see him to-morrow. 
 
 The night this resolution was made a letter came from 
 Mary full of affection and encouragement. Evelyn drank 
 in every word of it thirstily. Her life had been so devoid 
 104
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 of love and sympathy that she had ceased to expect it, 
 but this letter showed her how warming to the heart and 
 strengthening to the soul was the interest of another 
 human being. She put the letter under her pillow, and 
 for the first time in a long space she prayed before sleep 
 closed her eyes. 
 
 Before her visit to Brandon's office, Evelyn spent seven 
 precious dollars for a hat ; the winter one which she had 
 been wearing was last year's made over, and even her 
 ingenuity could not make it modish or becoming. An- 
 other dollar went for a pair of gloves. She thought 
 deeply over this expenditure, for she had to be careful 
 of every penny if her money was to last through the 
 summer. But the hope that Brandon would do some- 
 thing for her was strong in her, and she made the outlay 
 cheerfully. 
 
 By ten the next morning she was dressed, and a little 
 sigh of satisfaction escaped her as she surveyed the 
 effect of the new hat. It was inexpensive, but chosen 
 with such an eye to the becoming that at double the price 
 it could not have been more effective. 
 
 She thought how wonderful it must be to have soft, 
 silky clothes, and soft, drooping hats, and as many white 
 gloves as you wanted, and to give forth always a lovely, 
 faint, expensive fragrance. These thoughts made her 
 turn away from the sight of her seven-dollar hat and 
 sigh. 
 
 She passed and repassed the theatre that housed Bran- 
 don's office several times before she had sufficient courage 
 to go in. Suppose he wouldn't remember her how could 
 he with so many people coming to see him, or, if he 
 should remember her, would he ask with a quizzical 
 smile on his face if she were divorced so soon ? At length 
 her courage returned and she rushed up the stairs that 
 led to the office. 
 
 She found the waiting room, that had been crowded 
 
 105
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 last summer, deserted now save for the telephone opera- 
 tor who, between calls, was too absorbed in the latest 
 Chambers' novel to give her attention to any mere actress 
 who might stray in. 
 
 Evelyn waited patiently for the girl to look her way, 
 but as this possibility grew more remote each moment 
 she stepped up to the desk and asked if Mr. Brandon 
 was in. 
 
 "He sailed yesterday won't be back till August," was 
 the laconic reply, made without lifting her eyes to her 
 questioner. There was a buzz, and she began her me- 
 chanical, "Hello, hello Bryant 2380 yes, yes go 
 ahead!" 
 
 Evelyn stood watching her, hoping wildly that she 
 would refute the statement just made. All the colour 
 that excitement had fanned into her cheeks was gone 
 she felt weak and faint. Mr. Brandon gone away until 
 August. He was gone, and she left here with all the 
 other managers who didn't like her type! 
 
 The telephone operator, having made her connections, 
 looked up inquiringly at her. She turned abruptly, ran 
 out of the office and down the stairs. 
 
 She hadn't the courage to go elsewhere to look for 
 work; her desire was to get away from every sight and 
 sound of the theatrical world. She hurried to her hall 
 bedroom on the top floor of the ill-kept rooming house. 
 
 It was eleven o'clock, and the house was filled with 
 the fumes of coffee the late risers were preparing their 
 own breakfasts. The odour sickened Evelyn, and she 
 hurried up the stairs to her room. She took off her new 
 hat and gloves without looking at them. Once undressed 
 she dropped on the bed and lay there through the after- 
 noon, crushed by disappointment and depression. 
 
 She felt so alone, so unprotected, so unfortified, ig- 
 norant of life, and how to meet the conditions that faced 
 her. Then some stray words of Mary's came to her: 
 106
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 "They talk of our freedom. Why don't they train us 
 for freedom? Half the things a girl is taught so care- 
 fully at home are the things that she has to throw over- 
 board when she comes to grips with the world !" 
 
 Evelyn wondered what were the things that she needed 
 to throw overboard in order to earn a living. Was she 
 always to be as now shy, uncertain, inefficient? Other 
 women got on; some had great success why shouldn't 
 she? In the old days she had told herself that, once 
 free of Bob, she would be able to make and save money, 
 and now, at the first disappointment, she was going under. 
 This was a bracing thought. She rose, dressed, and, 
 though it was four o'clock and the day's activity apt 
 to be over, there was always a chance, and, at any rate, 
 the chief thing was to conquer her cowardice. 
 
 At each agency she met with the usual "Nothing to- 
 day," and at last she deserted the theatrical district, and 
 walked up Seventh Avenue towards the Park. * 
 
 It was a cool, fine day, and all New York seemed out 
 for an afternoon airing. Evelyn sat on a bench near 
 the entrance of the Park and watched the passing throng: 
 important-looking dowagers in smart victorias, behind 
 proud-stepping horses, presided over by two rigid men 
 in livery, perfect in appointment from the plumes on 
 the dowagers' hats to the silver plates on the thorough- 
 breds' harness; elegant ladies, sad ladies, flamboyant 
 ladies rolled past in luxurious limousines; young men 
 crouching in low-hung racing cars smashing the speed 
 limit once from under the eye of the traffic policeman; 
 taxicabs with men and furtive-eyed women. The young, 
 the old, the gay, the sad, whirling by the world riding 
 all seeming to Evelyn as she sat on the Park bench 
 so fortunate, so secure, so tremendously superior. 
 
 Her absorption was broken in on by a coarse, throaty 
 voice saying, "Lonely, honey?" She looked up to see a 
 
 107
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 pallid youth with his hat on the back of his head and a 
 toothpick in his mouth, leering at her. 
 
 "Go away !" she cried hysterically. 
 
 He took her speech for encouragement, and moved 
 nearer. She jumped to her feet and hurried away. Down 
 Seventh Avenue, almost on a run, so intent was she on 
 getting away from the loathsome creature that had spoken 
 to her. She realised with a flash that even so poor a 
 thing as the protection of Bob had been, it had at least 
 spared her such insults as this. But now, because she 
 was alone, and because she was poor it had grown to 
 be with her that back of every ill stood poverty she 
 was subjected to this humiliation. Those women in their 
 carriages and motors were protected from such experi- 
 ences because they had money. 
 
 "I'll have it some day," she said to herself fiercely. 
 "I'll have it some day!" 
 
 And that night, after she had turned out the light, she 
 lay wide-eyed in the darkness, the same thought tugging 
 at her mind: "I'll have money some day I'll be free 
 of all this I will I will." 
 
 A welcome sound awakened her the next morning 
 it was a card from an agency asking her to call at nine- 
 thirty. It was nine as she read it, but she was there 
 on time and met a man who had run over from Philadel- 
 phia to get a girl for his vaudeville act. The actress 
 who had been playing the part had been sent to the hos- 
 pital the night before, and he had to have some one to 
 open at the three o'clock matinee. 
 
 Evelyn said that she could do this, and though she 
 was not exactly "the type," expediency triumphed over 
 the pictorial and she was engaged. 
 
 An hour later she was on the train with McCarthy, 
 
 going over the new part. It was a simple, conventional 
 
 ingenue role. Evelyn had played many like it in stock, 
 
 and as it was short she was fairly easy in her lines by 
 
 108
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 the time they reached Philadelphia. She promised to be 
 letter perfect by three o'clock. 
 
 This pleased McCarthy, who told her that her salary 
 would be thirty dollars a week, and the act, he always 
 called it "The Act" as though there was no other act 
 in the world, was booked for a six-months tour. 
 
 She paused a moment in her studying thirty dollars 
 a week for six months ! 
 
 "I can save a lot of money a lot!" she thought to 
 herself. 
 
 109
 
 CHAPTER TEN 
 
 THE ACT," as Evelyn soon learned to call it with 
 proper emphasis on the "the," which grew 
 into a joke between her and the third member of the 
 company, had to do with a lovable, comic Irishman, his 
 daughter, and her sweetheart. The old man had a strong 
 inclination towards drink, and there was a plot between 
 the young people that not only consummated their hopes, 
 but effected a reformation of the father. It was slender 
 in story, played for laughs, with an occasional touch of 
 sentiment, and rounded out by the interpolation of an 
 Irish ballad sung by the lover, a broad-shouldered young 
 man with kind eyes and a sensitive mouth. 
 
 In the hurried introduction Evelyn did not catch his 
 name, but McCarthy called him "Hub," and even in her 
 excitement she stopped to think that it was a very appro- 
 priate name. He was round and solid and steady and 
 she and McCarthy seemed like spokes whirling about him. 
 It was her old habit of making a picture of every thought, 
 and, as far as she was able, sensation. 
 
 They had rushed from the train to the theatre, and 
 behind a screen on which a moving picture was being 
 shown for the early comers, they had a rehearsal. Mc- 
 Carthy, a nervous, wiry Irishman to whom sixty years 
 had not brought poise, was more nervous than Evelyn, 
 and flung a hundred directions at her. 
 
 "Now, my dear, wait here I get a good laugh on that 
 line. And don't you sit on that chair it collapses." 
 
 "I'll remember," Evelyn answered. 
 
 "And when you run off, kiss your hand to me remem- 
 ber that because I get a laugh on my business, and don't 
 I io
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 you look at my feet until you say, 'Why, dad, you've 
 got on your Sunday shoes !' " 
 
 "Yes, I'll remember." 
 
 "And listen, when I say 'Me take the pledge, and 
 St. Patrick's Day in the morning' don't you move, 
 and " 
 
 But before he could give her another direction the 
 young man cut in: "Say, Mack, you'd better leave all 
 that stuff until after the first show ; if she gets the lines 
 now, it'll be fine." 
 
 Evelyn smiled gratefully at him, for these numerous 
 directions were uprooting the lines that were planted so 
 lightly in her memory. 
 
 McCarthy, reminded that he was lacking in considera- 
 tion, apologised, and told her to get through the first 
 show the best way she could, and he would be satisfied. 
 
 And she got through without missing a word or a cue, 
 and without cutting in on one of McCarthy's precious 
 laughs. The old man was delighted, and the younger 
 one congratulated her, and went out and brought into 
 her dressing room some lunch. The sight of food re- 
 minded Evelyn that she hadn't eaten that day. She was 
 too nervous to eat now, but it touched her deeply to 
 have some one think of her, and consider her comfort. 
 
 She stood in the wings with "Hub" waiting for her 
 cue to enter. The act played three times a day, and this 
 was the second performance, and more dreaded than the 
 first, for then the excitement had carried her through, 
 but since then she had had time to think, and to receive 
 numerous directions from McCarthy, and she was not so 
 sure of herself. And she was so anxious to please, so 
 eager to keep her engagement, though her joy in finding 
 the work was tempered by the thought of the girl in the 
 hospital. 
 
 "Is she alone without friends ?" she asked the man at 
 her side. 
 
 in
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 "No, her mother came to-day; she is well taken care 
 of," he assured her. 
 
 "I am so glad." 
 
 He looked at her quickly. "I am, too." 
 
 Then, a moment later, as he saw fingers lacing and 
 unlacing nervously, and her eyelids fluttering, he added, 
 "Don't be nervous you were all right this afternoon." 
 
 "But the second time is always hard." 
 
 "I know, but there's your cue smile as you go on." 
 He gave her a gentle push, and she walked on, smiling 
 happily. 
 
 The act ran through smoothly Mack got every one 
 of his laughs and five curtain calls, and he was radiant. 
 He patted Evelyn on the shoulder, and said, "I'm some 
 picker of talent eh, Hub ?" 
 
 For answer Hub said, "You are!" and they retired 
 to their respective dressing rooms to wait until the pro- 
 gramme should swing around again to their turn. 
 
 It was Evelyn's first experience in vaudeville, and she 
 was seeing it at its hardest three, on Sundays and holi- 
 days, four, performances a day; long waits in stuffy 
 dressing rooms, but she accepted the long hours, the tire- 
 some waits, the strange companions gratefully anything 
 to be away from the uncertainty and pain of being in 
 New York without a job. 
 
 That night, as she gave her hair the hundred strokes 
 guaranteed to keep it soft and silky, she went over 
 the events of the day, a long, long day it had been. 
 It seemed a year ago since she was awakened at nine 
 o'clock by the sound of a card being pushed under the 
 door. Since then she had seen a manager, packed her 
 trunk, travelled to Philadelphia, learned a part, and 
 given three performances, and best of all had received 
 high praise from her employer. She was tired and 
 sleepy and happy happiness was a new and wonderful 
 thing to her.
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 It was eleven o'clock the next morning before she 
 opened her eyes. She sat up, looked about the strange 
 room, then, with a grateful sigh, sank back, remember- 
 ing remembering that she was away from the New 
 York rooming house, that she had an engagement, and 
 the day would not be filled with the discouragement and 
 pain of job hunting. 
 
 It was good to lie in bed, relaxed in body, and easy 
 in mind. She was not due at the theatre until two, so 
 she pulled the light cover up under her chin and luxuri- 
 ated in her leisure and new independence. 
 
 She had fifty dollars left of the money she had saved 
 with "No Guiding Hand," and for six months she was 
 going to get thirty dollars a week. She ought to be able 
 to save fifteen dollars each week that would mean 
 wealth by the time the season closed. She would make 
 her last summer's clothes do, and she would live in cheap 
 hotels, and eat in inexpensive restaurants nothing should 
 interfere with her saving money, for that meant ease 
 and security when she returned to New York. Life was 
 very sweet to her this morning very sweet and prom- 
 ising. 
 
 The week wore on and she became better acquainted 
 with the two men in the act. Old man McCarthy would 
 sit in her dressing room during the long waits and spin 
 for her tales of other days and dead and gone "perform- 
 ers" everybody who made their living on the stage, 
 from Edwin Booth to an animal trainer was a "perform- 
 er," and all branches of the theatrical profession came 
 under the general title of "Show Business." 
 
 For the most part McCarthy's stories were of the old 
 minstrels and minstrel men ; the tricks they played on 
 railroads how a business manager's ability was esti- 
 mated by his knack of transporting twenty people on a 
 ticket that called for fifteen. He told her of the Medicine 
 Shows, some that travelled through the Northwest in
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 wagons, of dealings with the Indians and pioneer peo- 
 ple, of the present well-known actors who had made 
 their start on the platforms where, between song and 
 joke telling, the Marvellous Balm that would cure all ills 
 was sold. As his talk neared the present it was of people 
 of the vaudeville world ; occasionally there was mention 
 of a "legit," but it was only in passing. 
 
 Evelyn sat during these long recitals with her sewing 
 in her hand, answering him with a word here, a smile 
 there. She liked the shrewd, kindly old man, who never 
 asked her a question about herself, never showed the 
 least desire to pry into her past or her private life, but 
 treated her with respect and consideration and a certain 
 impersonal tenderness. 
 
 When he was not about the young man, whose name she 
 learned was Bert Hubbard, came in for a chat. He would 
 stand in the doorway, his broad shoulders almost filling 
 the opening, and tell her interesting, amusing things while 
 her busy fingers went on with the sewing. 
 
 She found him easier to talk to than McCarthy, and 
 when she discovered that he was from Tennessee she 
 felt very much at home with him. Her own home had 
 been near the border and their earlier days had been 
 passed under the same conditions. 
 
 They laughed over the customs of the small towns, 
 the picnics, the dances, the love affairs, and rivalries. 
 He told her of wandering away from his home town off 
 to Texas, where he had survived by picking up odd jobs ; 
 he told her of the hardships he had endured as a mem- 
 ber of an engineering party sent out to survey govern- 
 ment land ; afterwards he had ridden range, and been a 
 cook on an Arizona ranch ; had sung illustrated songs in 
 a San Francisco cafe; he had prospected in Alaska, and 
 been stranded with a company in South America. He 
 had a scar over his left eye that was a souvenir of this 
 last experience, but refused to tell her its history, so she 
 114
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 made it the centre of a thrilling romance with a tropical 
 beauty. 
 
 It was a simple, objective tale of an adventurous life, 
 but to Evelyn, whose own life had been colourless and 
 cramped, it spelt romance, wonder and beauty. It was 
 easy to imagine the whole of it happening to him. He 
 was so strong, so capable the broad shoulders, the pow- 
 erful hands, the kind, steady eyes, and the gentle, humor- 
 ous mouth. 
 
 She had no gift for analysis, was unable to isolate the 
 qualities that made up the man, and then synthesise them 
 as a more sophisticated mind would have done. But she 
 liked him, felt at home with him. Her nerves came to 
 rest in his poise, and to her who for so long a time had 
 been seeking some security, some sense of permanence, 
 this was a new and agreeable sensation. She was thor- 
 oughly unaware that it was a dangerous one. 
 
 The little company played around the smaller Ohio 
 towns waiting for their opening on the Western circuit. 
 As a rule they played "split weeks" the first three days 
 in one town, the last three in another. 
 
 It was on such a move from Youngstown to Akron 
 that Evelyn and Hubbard found what good friends they 
 had become. 
 
 The theatres were under the same management, and 
 when the "bill" as a whole went over to Akron to finish 
 out the week, McCarthy was given the railway tickets, 
 and was the temporary manager of the loosely knit or- 
 ganisation. As they left the train in Akron even Evelyn's 
 embryonic sense of humour was touched by the picture 
 they presented. 
 
 Leading the procession that marched up the hill were 
 the two contortionists in "jaunty suits" and "nifty hats"; 
 then a stout man with a large monkey in a basket ; next 
 two negro comedians wearing red waistcoats and carry- 
 ing their bags and trombone cases; and winding up the 
 
 US
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 parade was the "single woman," with a large bag in 
 one hand and under the other arm a white poodle; at 
 her side walked McCarthy, brave in his checked suit and 
 tan derby. 
 
 Evelyn crossed the street to escape this grotesque pro- 
 cession. 
 
 "Let me carry that bag up the hill," a voice said, and 
 turning, she saw that Hubbard was just behind her. 
 
 "It isn't heavy; I don't mind it," she answered. 
 
 "Give it to me," he said, taking it out of her hand, "it 
 is heavy full of bottles." 
 
 "How do you know?" 
 
 "Just a good guess." Then, looking across the street, 
 he smiled. "Some sight that." 
 
 "We are like a circus parade," she answered. 
 
 "More like the animals coming out of the Ark. Turn 
 down this street and we'll lose them." 
 
 Without protest she followed him, relieved in not hav- 
 ing to find her way to the hotel. 
 
 "Here," he said, as he paused before a bakery, "is a 
 good place to eat don't you want to have your lunch 
 before you go to the hotel ?" 
 
 "Yes, if I'm not hungry, the hotel won't seem so bad." 
 With her resolution to live on fifteen dollars a week she 
 had encountered some hotels worse than those she and 
 Bob had patronised, but she was sticking bravely to her 
 resolve, and in three weeks forty-five dollars had gone 
 into money orders true, fifteen had to go to the agent 
 in New York, but the rest was hers, and was just the 
 beginning of the great sum that she was going to save. 
 
 In answer to her last speech Hub pushed open the door 
 of the bakery and held it with his foot while she entered, 
 then he followed with the bags. 
 
 It was the lunch hour, and the place was crowded ; 
 there were hurrying waitresses, and the clatter of dishes, 
 and record-breaking eating at the long tables. 
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 The Least Resistance 
 
 "A fine sword swallower there," Hub said, indicating 
 a man who was lifting a large piece of pie to his mouth 
 on his knife. "There are two seats in the corner 
 hurry." 
 
 They rushed over to the corner and he held her chair 
 and handed her the menu before he seated himself. His 
 simple, unconscious courtesy made her feel shy and a 
 bit uncomfortable, after the years of indifference she 
 had known as Bob's wife. 
 
 They enjoyed the lunch, or rather they enjoyed each 
 other until he spoiled it by not allowing her to pay for 
 her share. She was sensitive about money, and as much 
 as she wanted to save, she had a passionate wish to take 
 care of herself. 
 
 "I can't let you," she said. 
 
 "But I want to. Why make a fuss about such a little 
 thing?" 
 
 "But I can't I " She was about to say that she 
 
 would never come with him again, and it occurred to her 
 that it would not matter to him whether she came or not 
 she had small vanity about her charms. Though she 
 protested again, he paid the bill and they left the res- 
 taurant. 
 
 They walked to the hotel in silence, and as the clerk 
 gave her the key to her room she went on up the stairs 
 without a word or glance at him. 
 
 He looked after her with a puzzled, hurt smile on his 
 face. The mind of a girl with whom life had dealt as it 
 had with Evelyn was a closed book to him. 
 
 His attitude towards women was simple kindly dis- 
 posed in general, interested sometimes by a pretty face 
 or a vivacious manner, but no shaft had ever been sent 
 down to touch the depths. In spite of the shift and 
 change of his life, his constant association with people 
 to whom he gave much, and from whom he received 
 little, he had kept as clean and fine as a man may. He 
 
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 The Least Resistance 
 
 had a mind stored with practical facts and first-hand in- 
 formation, but the world of art and abstract thought was 
 an unknown country to him. He was tremendously virile, 
 and capable of great tenderness, and in Evelyn, so essen- 
 tially feminine, there was an appeal that haunted and 
 interested and stirred him as no other woman ever had. 
 
 II*-
 
 CHAPTER ELEVEN 
 
 THEY opened in Cincinnati. "The Act," billed as 
 "the extra added attraction," gave satisfaction to 
 the audience and the management, and confirmed Mc- 
 Carthy's belief that it was the best act in vaudeville. 
 This was the opening of the Western Circuit, and here 
 they were joined by five other acts forming a complete 
 programme which, like a wheel, would roll to the Coast 
 and back again. 
 
 Evelyn looked with interest at these people whom she 
 would see daily, nightly, for nearly six months. There 
 were Knott and Camp, who opened the bill. They were 
 roller skaters, advertised as "The Comic Boys on 
 Wheels." They had been together for years, and their 
 mutual appreciation was shown in their names for each 
 other one was "His Nibs," the other "His Nobs." The 
 latter hailed from a Southern town, and his drawl gave a 
 certain charm to his vaudeville slang. His Nibs was a 
 product of the Bowery, and lived to war with the cruel 
 and stupid Fate that always relegated roller skaters to 
 the ignominious position of first on the bill. 
 
 Next on the programme were "The Dancing Dudes," a 
 trio of loose-jointed boys who wound up their act with 
 a "soft shoe dance" that never missed fire. Then fol- 
 lowed the inevitable "sister act," composed of May and 
 June Divine June, a tall, stunning girl who sang ballads 
 in a slightly nasal voice and was a foil for the eccentric 
 comedy of May. 
 
 Following the sisters was McCarthy's act, and then 
 "Great Scott," the monologuist, walked out before the 
 drop and delivered himself of Negro, Irish, and Jew 
 stories. 
 
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 The Least Resistance 
 
 Then came the headliner, Todd Orr, an English im- 
 portation, a short, slight man with a face like a saint 
 and a cockney accent as thick as a London fog. Orr was 
 a quick-change artist, and sang ballads and cockney dit- 
 ties in appropriate costumes and settings. He had a 
 pleasing tenor voice and a magnetic personality. He car- 
 ried five trunks and a valet, and dressed in the latest 
 mode on and off the stage, but this was business done to 
 impress the managers and the public. He went with the 
 other performers to the cheaper hotels, and each week 
 sent the bulk of his salary to a home bank. 
 
 The watchword of the crowd was "thrift." There 
 were only two exceptions Great Scott, who supported a 
 bar in each town, and Hubbard, to whom money was as 
 a handful of sand to let slip through the fingers for the 
 pleasure of feeling it go. He made money, spent it, and 
 gave no thought to the future. 
 
 From Cincinnati they moved to Chicago, and then to 
 Milwaukee. By this time Evelyn was so identified with 
 the sketch and the two men who made up the company 
 that all her life before seemed like a story that she had 
 read and half remembered. Sometimes, waking in the 
 night, she would think of Bob, hope fervently that he had 
 pulled himself together, dismiss him, and drop again 
 into sleep. Her nerves were too quiet, and she was too 
 much at peace with the world for long, wakeful hours. 
 Not since her childhood had she been so surrounded, so 
 encompassed by kindness and attention. 
 
 In his rough way McCarthy looked after her and 
 cheered her. She was a "great girl," and "some per- 
 former," and he had a "gun for any stage door Johnny 
 that hung about." He treated her as though she were 
 a dainty, delicate thing, and in her presence he left off 
 his profanity and expurgated his stories. 
 
 The other people on the bill took their cue from Mc- 
 Carthy and treated her with a deference that was new 
 120
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 and pleasing. These people, who knew life stripped of 
 its trappings, were quick to scent anything that was out 
 of their world, and they had an enormous respect for it, 
 if there was no assumption of superiority, and no affecta- 
 tion. Evelyn's simplicity, her gentleness, her evident re- 
 finement, and little unconscious acts of courtesy, made a 
 great hit with the vaudevillians, and they called her 
 "some little lady." 
 
 The last to yield to her graciousness were the Divine 
 Sisters. They thought that she was "giving herself airs," 
 that she was too good, in her own estimation, for them, 
 but this soon passed away, and the repository of the woes 
 of the beautiful, tempestuous June and the slangy, prac- 
 tical May was Evelyn's sympathetic ear. 
 
 And there was Hubbard! She was his first thought 
 in the morning, his concern during the day, and his 
 vision by night. They had long talks in the theatre, they 
 took long walks together, but she avoided him at meal 
 times, unless they were living on the American plan 
 where the cheque would not be a cause for disagreement. 
 
 The talk between them was seldom personal; he told 
 her minutely of his life, but in such an objective way 
 that it might have been the history of some one else that 
 he was relating. Whenever there was a story that re- 
 dounded to his credit it was always told as having hap- 
 pened to "a fellow that I know." 
 
 Evelyn learned to smile at this deception, and once, 
 when this "young fellow" was hero of a fight, and saved 
 a girl from death and got a scar for life, she said quietly, 
 "Yes, I have noticed that scar on your forehead." 
 
 He denied it vehemently, and pulled his hat low to 
 hide the tell-tale scar. 
 
 But though he talked freely to her of himself, Evelyn's 
 past was a book that she never opened for him. She had 
 put away her wedding ring, resumed her maiden name, 
 and was trying to shape her life away from all thought 
 
 121
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 of Bob. It was easy enough to do this in the atmosphere 
 of kindness and appreciation that surrounded her these 
 days. 
 
 In Milwaukee she went with McCarthy and Hub to 
 the great beer garden. She had a busy hour between 
 the first and second shows, making ready for the occa- 
 sion. A last summer's dress was taken out of the trunk 
 and pressed, and the bow on an old hat re-tied. She 
 was rewarded by the complete subjugation of her two 
 cavaliers, which made a very pleasant beginning to the 
 party. 
 
 They found a table in a corner of the great, crowded, 
 smoke-filled pavilion. The tables were jammed together 
 so close that the waiters had to squeeze in and out to 
 take orders and deliver steins of foaming beer. Smoke 
 curled from hundreds of cigars and cigarettes ; there was 
 talk and laughter, and through it all the crash of the 
 orchestra. 
 
 Evelyn's eyes grew bright and she smiled at Hubbard, 
 who sat opposite her, his eyes never shifting from her 
 face. McCarthy had swung about in his chair, stein in 
 one hand, cigar in the other, watching the movements 
 of the eccentric conductor. 
 
 "Well?" Evelyn said after a pause. 
 
 "Not 'well.' It has such a 'what's-the-use' sound," 
 Hubbard answered. 
 
 "I don't feel that way." 
 
 "Why should you? You look about sixteen." 
 
 She laughed. "It's the bonnet a wise lady must have 
 invented these bonnets ; they defy time." 
 
 "It is not the bonnet; it is the girl," he insisted. 
 
 "You've been learning from Mr. McCarthy," she said, 
 and at the sound of his name the old man turned to her. 
 
 "What about me, Dolly Varden?" he asked. 
 
 "You see, it is the bonnet," she said to Hub, but for 
 answer he shook his head. 
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 The Least Resistance 
 
 After this they came every evening, and at twelve 
 o'clock McCarthy would give the signal. "Take the little 
 girl home, Hub; it's time she was abed. I'm going to 
 have another stein, and hear Ignatz play 'Come Back to 
 Erin' I've sent up my request that'll get his Italian 
 goat." And McCarthy wrinkled his face in a smile at 
 his own joke. 
 
 Unknown to Evelyn, this sending her home with Hub 
 was a bit of policy on the old man's part. He desired 
 to bring about a happy ending to the romance that he 
 scented. He had known Hub for years, had never be- 
 fore seen him display much interest in a girl, and now 
 that the lad was caught, why he was going to help him 
 along no woman could be wanting a better man than 
 Hub. 
 
 Nothing could have pleased Hubbard more, though he 
 was as far from suspecting McCarthy as Evelyn. He 
 accepted gratefully this chance of being alone with her, 
 and it paved the way for times when, having grown 
 accustomed to him, she would consent to be without the 
 chaperonage of McCarthy. 
 
 Had she been more actively interested she would have 
 instinctively put a check on the ripening of their friend- 
 ship, but she felt towards him very much as she had 
 towards Mary at least she thought so. She was too 
 untrained in mind to know that a personality that brings 
 with it a sense of peace and security and deep rest fulness 
 has a grip that no mere surface charm can ever possess. 
 
 The wheel rolled on through Minneapolis and St. 
 Paul, and July found them in Winnipeg, and here they 
 had their first free Sunday. Most of the "vaudevillians" 
 slept it through. The prospect of an idle day had given 
 a fresh impetus to the Saturday night parties, and a day 
 of recuperation was needed. Beer had flowed freely the 
 night before; Great Scott and McCarthy sat late over 
 
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 The Least Resistance 
 
 their bottles and talked of other days and dead and gone 
 performers. When they parted each carried to his 
 room several bottles in anticipation of the dry Sunday 
 before them. The Dancing Dudes, the Roller Skaters, 
 and May Divine sat all night in a poker game. June, 
 who had committed the indiscretion of losing her heart 
 to Todd Orr, spent the night in tears, because he was out 
 with "old friends from England." June had done a little 
 detective work and overheard His Nibs tell His Nobs 
 that Todd was out with a "blonde who was old, but 
 nifty." It was daybreak before June could forget her 
 troubles in sleep, and it was after this that the others 
 sought their beds. 
 
 Evelyn and Hubbard were the only members of the 
 organisation who were up and ready the next morning to 
 take advantage of the fair summer day. 
 
 They spent the morning in a canoe on the river. He 
 paddled far up stream and they drifted back; they 
 caught the swell of a passing boat and rode it with no 
 sense of danger. With him it would have been impossi- 
 ble to feel afraid, he was so strong, so entirely capable 
 of taking care of himself and her. Unconsciously she 
 was growing to depend on this strength and this capabil- 
 ity. He saw that she was on time at trains, that she 
 was comfortable in hotels, that she had her meals regu- 
 larly, that she got home safely at night from the theatre. 
 He gave all of this and asked nothing in return save 
 that she receive it. 
 
 When she refused some offer of solicitude, the blood 
 would creep into his cheeks and his lips tighten she 
 never knew whether he was hurt or angry, but he always 
 left her, only to return a little later with some other plan 
 for her comfort. 
 
 Her resistance to this kindness grew weaker with each 
 passing day, and she grew to lean on him, to expect, even 
 to make demands in her gentle, tactful way. He was 
 124
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 radiantly happy, and she was caught up in the force of 
 this happiness, and her usual apathy gave way to a gentle 
 vivacity that made her prettier and more attractive. 
 
 Now she sat in the stern of the canoe, one hand trail- 
 ing in the water while he paddled and smoked and told 
 her incidents of a hunting trip in Canada. 
 
 "What a lot of things you've done," she said. 
 
 "Yes, too many Jack of all trades." 
 
 "Why not stick to one?" 
 
 "Can't born tramp." 
 
 "You don't seem a bit like an actor," she said ingenu- 
 ously. 
 
 "I'm not just riding the trucks to the next town." 
 
 "But what is in the next town?" 
 
 "Nothing just the fun of getting there. If I didn't 
 have the wanderlust in my veins, I'd be settled on a cot- 
 ton plantation in Arkansas." 
 
 "Really?" 
 
 "But no, I let my grandmother struggle along with an 
 incompetent overseer while I tramp about the country, 
 painting my face and singing an Irish love song fine 
 job for a man but it has its advantages." He smiled at 
 her. "I wouldn't be paddling you up Red River if I 
 were a good, industrious youth." 
 
 She smiled at him in return. "But you would have a 
 nice home, and human food, and bales of cotton, and a 
 garden, if you wanted it I think I would rather have a 
 garden than anything in the world. We used to have 
 such lovely flowers at home. In the spring the crocus, 
 and jonquils, and hyacinths, and in the summer, roses. 
 Oh, roses everywhere, and night-blooming jessamine 
 sometimes I smell them now in my sleep and in the fall 
 the scarlet sage and hollyhocks. Mother and I used to 
 watch them come and go and now I've got to travel all 
 my life, and never have a little garden. Ah, well !" She 
 smiled whimsically at him. 
 
 125
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 "Shall we cut out this trouping, and go down to the 
 plantation, and make a garden?" His paddle was at 
 rest, and he was looking at her with grave, inquiring eyes. 
 
 "If grandmother can use her land for cotton, she 
 wouldn't have a flower garden." Then, to change the 
 subject she pointed to an island past which they were 
 drifting. "Isn't that a beautiful place!" 
 
 "Shall we land and explore?" 
 
 "Yes, let's do." 
 
 He pulled the boat to the shore and helped her out. 
 It was a thickly wooded island which had not yielded to 
 the half-hearted attempts to make a park of it; the few 
 benches scattered about under the trees were sur- 
 rounded by tall grass, and the walk that crossed the 
 strip of land was almost hidden by the grass that grew 
 up between the boards following it with the eye it 
 seemed a faintly worn path that went down to the water 
 on the other side of the island. The trees laced over- 
 head, there was a heavy undergrowth of shrubbery, and 
 a few pale wild flowers peeping here and there. 
 
 The two explorers had the place to themselves, the 
 Sunday crowds not having arrived from the city. In the 
 deep stillness of the woods the sudden call of a bird 
 high up in a tree was startling and weird, and the far-off 
 whistle of a train intensified their feeling of remoteness. 
 Hubbard was at home in the woods, and felt at once the 
 spell of it, and Evelyn, sensitive to all beauty, responded 
 to this new variety. 
 
 "Nice place to camp," he suggested. 
 
 "Yes," she said in her breathless way that had such 
 charm for him. 
 
 "Quiet away." 
 
 "Yes," she said again. He had her arm, guiding her 
 along the uncertain walk. Through her thin sleeve she 
 could feel his hand, so big that it closed around her el- 
 bow. She was so close to him that when the call of the 
 126
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 bird again broke the stillness and she looked up to locate 
 the sound, she leaned unconsciously against him. She 
 heard the swift intake of his breath and moved away, 
 withdrawing her arm gently from his clasp, apparently 
 for the practical purpose of leading the way down the 
 narrow path. 
 
 They spent the day on the water and in the woods, eat- 
 ing the lunch they had brought from town under a great 
 tree whose branches spread over them and dipped down 
 to trail in water that lapped the shore. 
 
 "Think of the beautiful places one never dreams of 
 until you stumble on them as we did this one," Evelyn 
 said. 
 
 "This is just a beginning of the great places we are 
 going to, and the good times we are going to have. Wait 
 until we strike the Coast. You don't know what a coun- 
 try is until you have seen California." 
 
 He dwelt at length on the wonders and beauties of the 
 land toward which they were working, of the snow-clad 
 Shasta that one could see from the car window, if one 
 waked early enough; of the leaping beauty of Shasta 
 Springs ; of San Francisco, and all its charm, of the all- 
 day ride on "The Lark" to Los Angeles the long stretch 
 when the train runs by the sea the calm, blue Pacific, 
 and then San Diego. Words failed when he tried to 
 tell her of the sunshine, the breeze that never died away, 
 the water. "It is the garden spot of America," he fin- 
 ished enthusiastically. 
 
 It was dark when they returned to the city, and after 
 dinner she left him, saying that she must have a long 
 night's rest to be ready for the journey to-morrow. He 
 saw her to her door. She extended her hand to thank 
 him for the day, he held it for a moment, raised it to his 
 lips and kissed it. She withdrew it hastily, and without 
 further word turned into her room. 
 
 It was a long time before she dropped to sleep, and 
 
 127
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 before she did she promised herself that to-morrow she 
 would tell Hubbard about Bob. 
 
 But in the morning her anxiety seemed without founda- 
 tion. He met her in a calm, friendly spirit, that had 
 no suggestion of the lover in it, and, prompted by her 
 great desire to let her past rest, she decided that she 
 would maintain her policy of silence. 
 
 It was a long ride into Butte, and the tourist sleepers 
 which her economy forced her into were uncomfortable 
 and crowded. Most of the "vaudevillians" were accus- 
 tomed to these long trips, and settled down to kill the 
 time with poker, sleep, or long story-telling sessions in 
 the smoker. 
 
 Evelyn, never a good traveller, was rendered most 
 unhappy by the occupants of the berth just across from 
 her an Italian woman with two babies who required 
 constant attention, and, to Evelyn, it seemed constant 
 feeding. One cried incessantly, a thin, sickly cry, and 
 the other joined in the chorus when it was not busy with 
 a long stick of pink candy. The worn mother bore with 
 them patiently, and was even brave enough to smile wanly 
 when Evelyn spoke to the crying baby. In spite of her 
 sympathy for her neighbours, they made the long jour- 
 ney doubly trying, and when the mother produced a large 
 sandwich from which exuded the odour of garlic, she was 
 driven from her seat to the other end of the car. 
 
 Hubbard was seated by a window, staring out at the 
 country whirling by. He turned quickly at the sound of 
 Evelyn's voice. 
 
 "May I sit down here until the garlic has evaporated 
 or does it ever evaporate?" 
 
 "I believe it lingers a long time. But sit down. Tired 
 from the long ride ?" he asked. 
 
 "Yes ; I hate to travel, especially 
 
 "That's it; you shouldn't travel in these coaches 
 128
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 i 
 
 they are crowded and close, and you shouldn't do it," 
 he finished rather sharply. 
 
 "I can't afford the others," she said simply. 
 
 "You can, only you are afraid of the future." 
 
 "Well, it's a thing to be afraid of." 
 
 "No, whether you save money or not, in the end it is 
 the same thing." 
 
 "Perhaps for you, who could dig a ditch if you hadn't 
 a job, but even that is a dangerous way to look at it, and 
 for me well, if I save money I don't get back to New 
 York anxious and afraid, and if I have money I won't 
 get turned out of my room, and if my pocketbook is full 
 I don't think of young Baker so you see " 
 
 "Who is he?" he demanded peremptorily. 
 
 "Oh, just a young man we used to know." 
 
 "We?" 
 
 "Yes," she answered briefly, and turned to the win- 
 dow. She was trying to make herself tell him just what 
 "we" meant. There would never come a better oppor- 
 tunity, and it was the fair thing to do, but she was so 
 reluctant to bring a disturbing element into a friendship 
 that had come to mean so much to her. 
 
 "Was he some one that you cared for?" Hubbard 
 asked. 
 
 "Who ?" she said, not following him, so intense was her 
 own train of thought. 
 
 "Young Baker whom you spoke of." 
 
 "Oh, no, I scarcely knew him. He almost starved in 
 New York, then he killed himself to get away. It was 
 a hot night. I was out of work and depressed, and I 
 suppose it made an impression on me but it's silly to 
 talk about." 
 
 "Will you come to supper with me when we get into 
 Butte?" he asked, relieved that young Baker had been 
 of no importance to her. 
 
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 The Least Resistance 
 
 "No, thank you, I think I'll be ready to turn in after 
 this long trip I'm tired now." 
 
 "You need food as much as you do sleep. I know 
 a great place 'grand eats,' as May says. You're no 
 grandmother to go to bed with the chickens." 
 
 "It will be ten o'clock before we get in " 
 
 "And we'll be starving " 
 
 "Well, then, I'll come you always win." 
 
 "I wish I could think so," he said seriously. 
 
 Without answering she turned to the window. The 
 country through which they were passing was new and 
 interesting to her. The great mountains around which 
 the train wound its long length, the scant vegetation, the 
 great boulders, that looked as if they had been tossed by 
 giants at play all so different from the rich, flat land 
 of her girlhood, different from the tame, cultivated scen- 
 ery of the East. It called for words of big feeling 
 majesty, solemnity, grandeur it called for high thoughts 
 to match it thoughts of courage, of patience, and of 
 hope. She was absorbed in the patterns her mind was 
 weaving about the mountains, until she became conscious 
 that Hubbard's eyes were fastened on her. She turned 
 quickly the positive and negative current met a spark 
 flashed out. Evelyn shifted her eyes as a hot blush 
 spread over her face. She rose and tried to pass him. 
 
 "Don't go," he said, and his hand closed gently over 
 hers. 
 
 "I must I must " She withdrew it and hurried 
 
 down the aisle. 
 
 The afternoon dragged on. Twilight crept over the 
 mountains, and the car lamps were lighted. The train 
 was two hours late. Across the aisle the Italian woman 
 struggled with the crying babies ; at the other end of the 
 car some of the players were singing the latest popular 
 songs. The music jarred on Evelyn's nerves, and the 
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 The Least Resistance 
 
 sentiment offended her taste with its constant repetition 
 of "Love me, my baby, love me." 
 
 She was worn out with the journey, and restless from 
 the long confinement in the crowded car. She closed 
 her eyes, leaned back in her corner, wishing for silence, 
 and rest, and, above all, the comfort of a strong hand 
 closing about her own. 
 
 Then began the old argument was she to be shut off 
 from everything because of Bob ? He was living his life, 
 possibly with no thought of her. He had done every- 
 thing to make life impossible for her, and was his shadow 
 to be over all of her days? Was she to be denied this 
 tenderness that was offered her, and that she wanted 
 because she had been unfortunate? Her conscience an- 
 swered "No" to these questions. 
 
 But the other man, Hubbard, was it fair to him ? She 
 was appealing to him, winning his love with false pre- 
 tences the thing he was offering was his best his eyes 
 said that, his every act confirmed it. She knew instinc- 
 tively that his attitude would have been different had he 
 known that she was a married woman. And she didn't 
 want his attitude changed she wanted it the same in- 
 tensified. She wanted all of the comfort and strength 
 that could come from the gentleness and power of the 
 man. It was a thoroughly selfish emotion; she had no 
 thought of giving out anything in return she was, in 
 reality, too exhausted to give out much. 
 
 These questions and thoughts and desires worked in 
 her tired brain as the train wound up the mountain and 
 dipped again into the Copper City. 
 
 The weary troupers got together their belongings and 
 hurried from the train. As Evelyn was ready to step 
 off she saw Hub with outstretched hand waiting to help 
 her. She took it and without protest allowed him to 
 guide her to a waiting taxicab. 
 
 "I'm going to take you to a nice quiet hotel run by 
 
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 The Least Resistance 
 
 some old friends of mine. You'll be comfortable there 
 away from the others. Mack's going there too," he added 
 hastily, lest she misunderstand him. 
 
 It was Evelyn's first ride in a taxicab, and as she 
 leaned back in her corner she thought how much pleas- 
 anter they were than a crowded, jolting street car. 
 What a wonderful thing money was how comfortable 
 and smooth it made life. 
 
 They rode in silence up the hilly streets to the hotel, 
 a quiet, refined place, different from the usual theatrical 
 hotel. They were received cordially, and Evelyn assigned 
 to a large, pleasant room that looked out over the city 
 to the sombre mountains beyond. 
 
 "In half an hour I'll come for you to go to supper," 
 Hub said. 
 
 "But it is so late " 
 
 "But you must eat " 
 
 "Well, I'll be ready in half an hour," she said with a 
 smile. 
 
 The half hour was given to a vigorous attack on train 
 dirt, and when Hubbard called for her, Evelyn was clean 
 and sweet in a fresh blouse and a well-brushed suit. 
 
 The supper passed quietly, both were occupied with 
 their own thoughts. She troubled and puzzled him, and 
 filled him with a passionate desire to serve her. He had 
 never tried to define her charm for him other girls were 
 prettier, many had made more effort to please she made 
 none at all. She talked little he knew nothing of her 
 history but, whatever her appeal, she had struck and 
 fastened herself in the unexplored depths of his nature. 
 Since he had known her had come his first desire to 
 make his life something better than a mere tramp's 
 existence, to give it shape and purpose to make it a 
 thing worth offering her. 
 
 She smiled at him across the table. "Now listen," she 
 began. 
 
 132
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 "No, you listen this is my party, and if you say any- 
 thing to me about money I am going to drop you down 
 some convenient mine shaft on the way home." 
 
 "Now, please, it isn't fair, and it makes me unhappy." 
 
 "Didn't I ask you to come out to supper?" Hubbard 
 asked. 
 
 "Yes, but you are always paying, and I don't want you 
 to." 
 
 "I won't have it, and I won't talk about it," he said 
 with the irritability that came over him when she wouldn't 
 let him do for her. She shrugged her shoulders, and 
 they finished the supper in silence. They returned to the 
 hotel, and he saw her to her door. 
 
 "I'm sorry ; I didn't mean to spoil the party. You are 
 very good to me. Thank you, Hub." It was the first 
 time she had called him by this name, and the effect on 
 him was like magic. 
 
 "Evelyn you must let me that's all I want just to 
 
 do for you " He had her hand in his ; he drew her 
 
 gently to him, one arm slipped about her waist, the other 
 lifted her face to his their lips met in a long kiss. 
 Evelyn felt herself crushed against him; she seemed to 
 lose her identity to become a part of him. 
 
 The sound of a door, slammed at the other end of the 
 hall, brought her to a realisation of her position. "Let 
 me go " she whispered. 
 
 His hold relaxed. "Good night my love girl good 
 night." 
 
 She stood for a moment, leaning against the door, 
 watching him down the hall. When he was out of sight, 
 she turned into her room, switched on the lights. She 
 sought her old confidant her own face in the mirror. 
 This time, brilliant eyes and crimson cheeks and red, red 
 lips looked out at her, and the reflected face broke into 
 a radiant smile in answer to her, "I'm happy I don't 
 care, I'm happy!" 
 
 133
 
 CHAPTER TWELVE 
 
 THIS happiness lasted ; there was no reaction from it, 
 and when, at their next meeting, he drew her into 
 a close embrace she made no protest. She was passive 
 in his arms, her face lifted to his the eyes closed, the 
 invitation on the lips. 
 
 He accepted it eagerly, reverently, and it was this lat- 
 ter quality that pervaded all his thought and feeling for 
 her. He had known life in the rough; his associates 
 since he left the home in Tennessee had been coarse 
 men, and oftener coarser women, but he kept himself free 
 of their influence his mental and physical health had 
 always made depravity and vice abhorrent to him, and 
 the strong strain of ideality in his make-up had saved 
 him from sinking into the commonplace. He felt now 
 that he had waited all of his life for Evelyn. Her refine- 
 ment and aloofness gripped his imagination and stirred 
 all the latent chivalry in him. He loved her passionately, 
 but desire never crept into his mind, filled as it was with 
 a high joy and devotion. 
 
 Had his love been more selfish, made more demands, 
 Evelyn would have been less acquiescent, but in the se- 
 curity and comfort that he offered she knew the first real 
 happiness of her womanhood, and with her old faculty 
 for drifting with the tide, she was borne swiftly through 
 the days. 
 
 Out of Canada they had dipped again into the States, 
 through the big cities of the Northwest, then again into 
 the Dominion, going by boat from Seattle to Vancouver. 
 
 They sat on the upper deck until midnight. The full 
 summer moon casting a golden shimmer on the water that 
 134
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 broke in a soothing swish as the boat cut her way 
 through ; little sprays blowing up struck their faces like 
 many, tiny, warm kisses. His arm went about her, her 
 head drooped on his shoulder, one hand lay crumpled in 
 his. She was relaxed in body, at peace in mind this 
 was what she had always wanted, this quiet, this rest. 
 
 "I wish it could be like this always," she said wist- 
 fully. 
 
 "It can," he whispered in her ear. 
 
 "Things never last." 
 
 "Where did you ever learn to be such an awful little 
 pessimist?" he asked. 
 
 "On the stage," she answered. 
 
 "You aren't very keen about the stage, are you, Love- 
 Girl?" 
 
 "No, not very." 
 
 "How did you ever happen to get into this business ?" 
 It was the first time he had ever asked her any question 
 about her past. 
 
 "Necessity I don't want to talk about it the night is 
 
 too beautiful, and " To divert his mind she turned 
 
 her head so that her lips touched his cheek. He drew 
 her close in a swift, strong embrace. 
 
 "I don't like to have you doing it acting, I mean ; 
 you don't belong to the game. Don't you think you 
 would like the plantation if I made you a wonderful 
 garden there?" 
 
 "I don't know," she said slowly. 
 
 "You love me a little don't you?" 
 
 "One might think so if they saw us." 
 
 "But " 
 
 "Now now " she said, drawing herself away from 
 
 him so that she could smile up into his eyes, "don't be 
 greedy. I give you all my valuable time and attention, 
 and I'm a very good girl. I didn't go to dinner last night 
 
 135
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 with Todd Orr, even when he had on his cloth of gold 
 waistcoat." 
 
 "He asked you?" 
 
 "He did." 
 
 "Well " 
 
 "Well what?" 
 
 "Of all the nerve! You wouldn't go, would you 
 ever? It isn't just jealousy, but things I can't explain 
 _ w h y " 
 
 "He isn't good enough to sit at the table with angel 
 Evelyn!" 
 
 "You little devil," he said, seizing her hands and kiss- 
 ing them. "But you are right, no man is, certainly not 
 any of us troupers I'm going to get out and take you 
 with me." 
 
 Evelyn was spared an answer by the appearance of 
 June Divine, who seated herself in a chair opposite them 
 and broke into violent weeping. 
 
 "He promised me he wouldn't," she gasped out be- 
 tween sobs, "and you ought to see him I caught him 
 spooning with a peroxided dame." 
 
 "Oh, well, don't you care, June, there are lots of men 
 in the world," Hub said cheerfully. 
 
 "Care? Me, for that English pup? But it's enough 
 to make any girl sore these men are a fine lot! What 
 do you think, yesterday I gave him a present, a fifty- 
 dollar diamond stickpin, and to-night he's flirting with 
 a bleached " 
 
 "Never mind, June," Hubbard cut in, anxious to spare 
 Evelyn a stream of June's picturesque language. "I 
 guess Orr doesn't mean anything, and maybe you are 
 mistaken " 
 
 "Not a chance; but I'm going to fix him; I'm going 
 
 right up to him, and right before that dame I'm going 
 
 to ask him to gimme my pin back the stingy pup, that'll 
 
 make him squirm. Wasn't I the fool to spend my money 
 
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 The Least Resistance 
 
 on him? Why, if he spends ten cents on me he expects 
 me to be grateful ! He loves me, but he spends his money 
 on himself!" 
 
 Hubbard broke into a laugh at this last outburst. 
 "That's a good one, June; you ought to put that in the 
 act." 
 
 "That's all right ; I'm no fool ; I can see and I know 
 just how good these English guys are, but I'll fix Mr. 
 Todd Orr." And, fired by this determination, she 
 flounced away to bring about the complete humiliation of 
 Todd Orr. 
 
 "The poor thing," Evelyn said. 
 
 "She is a crazy thing a good-natured girl until she 
 is jealous now you see one of the reasons I didn't want 
 you to go out with Orr." 
 
 "Just think what June, would have done to me ! My, 
 how old and placid we seem after June's outburst," 
 Evelyn said with a laugh. 
 
 "I hear the plantation calling us," he answered. 
 
 "And I hear sleep calling me, and I must say good 
 night." 
 
 He let her go reluctantly, but she was anxious to get 
 away from a conversation that would make a confession 
 on her part a matter of honour and necessity. 
 
 Evelyn's light was out, and the sea air blowing through 
 the shutter, fanning her to sleep, when a loud knock at 
 her door startled her. 
 
 "Who is it?" she asked anxiously. 
 
 "It's me," answered a woman's voice. 
 
 Evelyn switched on the light and opened the door to 
 admit June, who held aloft the scarf pin ! 
 
 "I got it !" she cried triumphantly. "I took it away 
 I made him feel like two cents !" June was without her 
 coat, and her lips were blue from the chill of the night ; 
 her wind-blown hair fell over her eyes, swollen with 
 tears, and flaming now with anger and triumph. 
 
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 The Least Resistance 
 
 "Oh, June " was all Evelyn could find to say. 
 
 "Never mind, I showed him up. I snatched it off him 
 right before that peroxided dame, and gee, she was 
 scared, and she was right to be scared, for it was just 
 about her time to go overboard !" 
 
 "But June " Evelyn said again, trying to think of 
 
 something that would calm this outraged, passionate, 
 primitive girl. "I'm glad you got it, but couldn't you 
 have waited until to-morrow?" 
 
 "Why should I wait? Why should I let him make a 
 fool of me? Do you think I'm going to spend my time 
 and money on a guy that flirts with every skirt that 
 passes by? Ain't I been true to him, ain't I refused to 
 go out with the Dancing Dudes every time they asked 
 me? I did have a drink to-night with Blackie, but that 
 was just because I saw Todd with that dame !" 
 
 "How long have you known him ?" Evelyn asked, push- 
 ing a stool towards her. 
 
 "Since Cincinnati and I've been true to him every 
 minute and I've had plenty of chances I ain't no back 
 number, whatever he thinks I know a swell fellow in 
 Portland ! You just wait. I'll show Mr. Todd Orr that 
 he can't throw me down and pick me up !" 
 
 She shook her head defiantly. With her superb figure, 
 long black hair, and flashing eyes, she was far from a 
 back number. 
 
 "But men are all alike," she went on; "they like the 
 fun of winning you, and the fun of throwing you I 
 don't think Hub is like that he is some man, and you 
 are a lucky girl. I've seen a lot of girls after him 
 we done this circuit with him once before, and I never 
 saw him look at a dame, and now I guess he don't gam- 
 ble any more. But that English pup, he's a fine one! 
 Well, I've got my pin and he can She paused, the 
 sound of a low whistle floated in through the shutters.
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 "There he is now," she said with a contemptuous shrug, 
 "calling me well " 
 
 Again the long, low, meaning whistle came. June rose 
 from the stool, and at the third whistle a smile broke 
 over her face. She moved to the shutters and sent forth 
 an answering whistle. 
 
 "I'll just see what he wants," she explained as she 
 opened the door and vanished quickly from Evelyn's 
 sight. 
 
 Evelyn waited for the next act of the drama. She 
 heard Orr's cough outside her window, and then the 
 hurried steps of June going to him. 
 
 "Hello, June," he said pleasantly, and with no touch 
 of resentment. 
 
 "You you've got the nerve!" 
 
 "Now, forget it that was just a little )astime, dear; 
 didn't mean a thing; a little joke to make you jealous. 
 Give us a kiss that's an old dear." 
 
 For answer there was a gasp, a break between a sob 
 and a cry of joy, then the sound of a kiss, and a long 
 silence, followed by retreating footsteps. 
 
 The next morning, as they left the boat, Evelyn saw 
 that Todd was wearing the diamond scarf pin, and that 
 June was radiant by his side.
 
 CHAPTER THIRTEEN 
 
 THEY spent a week in Vancouver, and a week in that 
 little piece of Old England, Victoria. Here they 
 had daily visits from sleek Chinamen trying to sell elab- 
 orately embroidered kimonos, oriental laces and per- 
 fumes to the theatrical ladies. Fictitious sailors brought 
 pieces of goods, supposedly from the looms of England 
 and Scotland, which they, having brought over direct, 
 would sell to the American gentlemen cheap almost for 
 a song, and the said gentlemen, being remarkably poor 
 judges of woollens and weaves, and having heard a great 
 deal of the superiority of English stuff, bought liberally 
 from the oily tongued salesmen, all save Todd Orr, 
 whose father dealt in the stuff in Glasgow. But he held 
 his peace and let the Americans get fleeced. 
 
 "They think it can't be done," he said to his dresser, 
 "but they take the hook like fish 'suckers' is right!" 
 
 May and June Divine invested in kimonos of vivid 
 hues and elaborate designs dragons rampant on fields 
 of red and blue. Evelyn debated a long time over a 
 pale lavender embroidered in white chrysanthemums, 
 but the eight dollars necessary for the purchase meant a 
 whole week's living in New York, and this thought 
 helped her to resist the temptation. 
 
 "Besides, my dear," June said consolingly, "lavender 
 is a little pale for you you need something to tone you 
 up." 
 
 "Well then, it's too bad you didn't buy the lavender 
 one," her sister put in. "You need something to tone you 
 down you are making a complete and blooming ass of 
 yourself these days." 
 140
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 "Is that so?" June asked, somewhat taken aback by 
 this sudden attack. 
 
 "Yes, that's so I saw you give that Chink five dollars 
 for those fancy handkerchiefs yes, and I heard that 
 English simp say how much he 'fancied' them, and you 
 heard him too, and so you throw away your cash to 
 make a hit with him my, you're a fool !" 
 
 "Well, I may be foolish, but I haven't lost fifty dollars 
 at poker this season like some people that are so smart," 
 June said. 
 
 "Oh, I'll get that back, but you won't get yours back, 
 and you are spending it on a bum sport that will leave 
 you flat when the season's over and he's off to dear old 
 England." 
 
 It was the truth, and bitter, and June winced under it, 
 but she came back gamely. 
 
 "We'll see about that." 
 
 The two girls were in Evelyn's dressing room between 
 the second and third show, and, as usual, when they 
 came together these days it was to renew the war over 
 Todd Orr. May disapproved of the singing Beau Brum- 
 mel and aired her disapproval in and out of season. 
 From her knowledge of men of their world, she knew 
 that this affair, serious and important to June, was a 
 thing of fleeting interest to Orr. He and she had several 
 times clashed over his treatment of her young sister. 
 
 "I call him every time he tries to put one over on the 
 kid," she told Evelyn, "but the poor simp, she can't see 
 that he don't care a whoop for her. Why, he goes out 
 with any dame he takes a fancy to. And it ain't as if 
 June was a lemon she's turned down some swell fellows 
 in her time, and now she stands for anything from the 
 English gink. It makes me sick !" 
 
 May herself had no attachments; she was too busy 
 thinking about her act, practising her dancing, looking 
 up new jokes, studying comedy effects, and planning for 
 
 141
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 the next year. She was a clever eccentric comedienne 
 with a broad, low method and abounding vitality. The 
 audiences liked her, the people who worked with her liked 
 her, and the men on the bill, in the face of the salary 
 that she drew, treated her as one of themselves. She 
 smoked, drank, played poker with them, and kept herself 
 free of sentimental entanglements. 
 
 "It ain't that I don't like men," she explained to 
 Evelyn, "but I was too busy when I was sweet and 
 twenty, and now I get along so well by myself they seem 
 kinder useless, and then I've always had the kid to think 
 about, and now gee, this Todd thing makes me good 
 and sore!" 
 
 All talk wound back to the indiscretion of June. May 
 was seven years older than her sister and had been work- 
 ing ever since she was fourteen, when her mother died, 
 leaving her to look after herself and June. The trust 
 left to her she fulfilled faithfully, working winter and 
 summer in burlesque shows and small-time vaudeville. 
 Three years ago she had broken June into the act, and 
 since then they had been making money and some reputa- 
 tion, for June's youth and beauty were excellent foils for 
 May's eccentric comedy. The first break between them 
 came with the advent of Todd Orr, and now there were 
 almost daily stormy quarrels, followed by emotional 
 reconciliations, but through it all June held on to Todd, 
 that is, when he allowed himself to be held. He was 
 easily bored, inordinately vain, and had a natural aver- 
 sion to any binding tie, therefore June's days were full 
 of "drama," as Hubbard expressed it to Evelyn. 
 
 These girls, with their crudities, the fineness under the 
 crudities, their efficiency, their entire lack of culture, 
 their first-hand knowledge of life, made them of never- 
 ending interest to Evelyn, and her sympathy and interest 
 drew them to "Peggy," as they called her after her part 
 in the act. They sought her individually to confide their 
 142
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 troubles, and together that she might referee their quar- 
 rels. 
 
 "Look here, Peggy," May said one night as she lounged 
 about the dressing room, "June says she spilled some- 
 thing to you about Hub's gambling. She's a careless 
 kid. I hope she didn't make trouble." 
 
 "No. Why should she?" Evelyn asked. 
 
 "Well, I guess you aren't keen about having him that 
 way, are you" 
 
 'Why no, but- 
 
 "Don't try to stall with me, Peggy, I've been on this 
 revolving orange too long not to know a thing or two." 
 May, along with the others, took it for granted that it 
 was a very serious affair beween Hubbard and Evelyn, 
 and to these people, whether the affair was temporary or 
 permanent, the lovers held sway over each other's habits, 
 as well as hearts, and sometimes pocketbooks. 
 
 "I'm not trying to stall," Evelyn declared, "but I never 
 thought again of what June said." 
 
 "Well, it is all right then. Hub used to play with us 
 when we went over this circuit before, but, just like the 
 rest of us, not for big stakes so don't you worry." 
 
 "I won't," Evelyn assured her with a smile about her 
 mouth. 
 
 "You know, a fellow has got to have a bit of amuse- 
 ment, and when there's no girl about that he's strong for, 
 why he's going to run around with women or play cards 
 or drink and I guess of the lot a little poker is the 
 pick. Gee !" she cried, jumping up, "there's my music 
 why I didn't know the second show had started!" 
 
 Left to herself Evelyn smoothed her make-up, took 
 down the Peggy dress from the wall, and made ready 
 for "The Act." And all the while she was thinking of 
 what May had said, and how impossible it would have 
 been to make her understand that all she asked of Hub 
 was the pleasure of his companionship, the comfort of 
 
 143
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 his love. She had no desire to make him over; no wish 
 to penetrate to the very core of his being, to possess his 
 past, and present and future she wanted things as they 
 were. Had she been inclined to explain, and capable of 
 unwrapping her emotions and desires, the subtleties would 
 have escaped May, and her comment would have been, 
 "Why, you're a female Orr; you want to get, and not 
 give !" And Evelyn would have tumbled from her pedes- 
 tal. She knew this, and her liking for the pedestal, as 
 well as her natural reticence, made her hold her peace. 
 
 As they walked to the hotel after the performance she 
 repeated the conversation to Hubbard. 
 
 "May was trying to square me, but I guess June was 
 nearer right." 
 
 "You, Hub; why I can't imagine you doing anything 
 you shouldn't." 
 
 "My, do I seem that good? I am afraid it isn't so. 
 I've played everything from craps in the back of a bum 
 saloon to the game at Monte Carlo, and I'm thirty, and 
 broke, and a bum, and that's the answer ! But no more 
 not since Butte, and never again." He took her arm, and 
 held it close. 
 
 "But you mustn't, Hub ; you mustn't," she said breath- 
 lessly. 
 
 "Why what?" he asked. 
 
 "Care too much I'm not worth it." 
 
 "Oh, is that all? You are the sweetest, the whit- 
 est " 
 
 " "No, no please " 
 
 "All right." He dropped her arm, and they walked 
 on in silence. She knew that he was hurt. He was so 
 abnormally sensitive where she was concerned, so acutely 
 aware of the great good fortune that had come to him in 
 her preference, that this last rebuff from her stabbed to 
 the quick. 
 
 "Silly you," she said at last to break the long pause, "I 
 144
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 didn't mean anything, only I'm so afraid that you are 
 going to be terribly disappointed in me some day." 
 
 "How could I be?" 
 
 "You can't know everything " 
 
 "Well, I'll take a chance why, how could I be you 
 are you !" 
 
 He bade her good night with all clear between them, 
 but the next afternoon at the theatre he came into her 
 dressing room with a new perplexity in his heart. 
 
 "You didn't mean anything really last night, did you ?" 
 
 "Only what I said now Hub " she said, coming 
 
 to him. 
 
 "But," his arms went about her, and one hand raised 
 her face to his, "but you do love me just a little bit?" 
 
 "Now " 
 
 "Oh, but I want to know don't you love me a little, 
 you've never said?" he implored. 
 
 "And only words will satisfy you ?" 
 
 "I want to hear you say it." 
 
 "Well, I don't know, Hub, that is just it I like to be 
 here." She smiled at him and his arms tightened about 
 her. "I'm happy with you happier than I've been since 
 I was a child, but I don't know that I am capable of 
 love" the words "any more" were on her lips, but she 
 checked them. She had not the courage for the con- 
 fession that they would make obligatory. 
 
 At first it had been for her own convenience that she 
 kept her past a secret ; now it was the effect that it would 
 have on Hubbard. He treated her as innocent, virginal 
 to know that she had been married would shock him ; to 
 know that she was still married that a few months ago 
 she was Bob's wife, and that nothing now separated them 
 but her inclination she couldn't tell him. After a while 
 Fate would force her to tell, but perhaps by that time 
 Hubbard wouldn't care so much at any rate, she would 
 wait. 
 
 145
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 "Oh, Hub," she said at last, "don't ask me questions 
 all the time. I'm happy aren't you?" Her cool lips 
 brushed his cheek. A convulsive movement of his big 
 body answered her kiss, and told her that his happiness 
 was not complete, but she pretended not to understand. 
 
 Time swept them on into September, and California. 
 They "laid off" a week in San Francisco, which gave 
 them time to explore the picturesque city. Evelyn saw 
 Chinatown, ate queer dishes in queerer restaurants, in 
 the company of McCarthy and Hubbard had a peep at 
 the night life of the Barbary Coast, and for a contrast 
 lunched at the Cliff House, and saw the sun go down 
 over the Golden Gate. Daily hundreds of new impres- 
 sions registered in her mind ; she felt herself waking up, 
 more interested, more interesting no touch now of the 
 "creeping paralysis." 
 
 They journeyed to Los Angeles, then to golden San 
 Diego, and in a week that was bright with joy and warm 
 with security, Fate struck the blow that shattered her 
 peace and brought her once again face to face with 
 reality. 
 
 All through the last performance of "The Act" on 
 Thursday night she noticed that McCarthy was having 
 trouble with his breathing, that he gasped often, and held 
 on to the chair and table more than was his custom. He 
 omitted all of his comedy steps, and there was no wait- 
 ing for laughs, no warming up to the audience. Evelyn 
 watched him anxiously, but without any feeling of panic, 
 and she was totally unprepared for the scene that fol- 
 lowed the dropping of the curtain. 
 
 The old man sank in a chair and called faintly : 
 
 "Hub." Hubbard rushed to him. "I'm going get a 
 
 doctor." His breath was coming in short gasps, the body 
 
 collapsing, less able each moment to help the oppressed 
 
 lungs. Hubbard lifted him in his arms as though he had 
 
 146
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 been a baby and bore him to his dressing room. The 
 stage manager sent a hurried call for a doctor. But he 
 came too late. McCarthy died ten minutes after the fall 
 of the curtain. He breathed his last in the arms of 
 Hubbard, while the raucous voices of the Three Dudes 
 in their opening number flooded the theatre with sound. 
 
 There was intense, restrained excitement behind the 
 scenes, but the performance went on without a hitch. At 
 Hubbard's request May Divine went with Evelyn to the 
 hotel. He had many things to attend to, and he wanted 
 her looked after. 
 
 "Look out for her; she isn't strong, and this is a 
 shock " 
 
 "Sure, Hub, I'll stay with her, the poor kiddie," May 
 answered, and went in to help Evelyn dress for the 
 street. 
 
 On the way to the hotel neither spoke. Once in the 
 room she let May take off her hat and coat, and thanked 
 her with a little nod and faint smile. 
 
 "Please don't stay up with me, May," she begged. 
 "I'm all right, and if I need you I'll come to you." 
 
 "You sure you won't be afraid " 
 
 "Afraid? No not of death." 
 
 "Of course, you aren't. I didn't mean that I meant 
 you might be lonely, or " 
 
 "No, I won't," Evelyn insisted. "I'll come to you 
 if I am, I promise." 
 
 "All right now, I'm just two doors away, and any 
 time." With an affectionate pat on the shoulder, May 
 went out, leaving Evelyn to herself. 
 
 It was a relief to be alone. She went to the window, 
 and stood for a long time looking out at the night. She 
 could see the theatre ; she watched the crowds leave, saw 
 the electric sign go out ; some time later a long, black wagon 
 arrived; a group of figures came from the stage en- 
 
 147
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 trance and stood about the wagon. Evelyn turned from 
 the window. 
 
 She looked about her room; a few hours ago it had 
 been a pleasant place, with its three windows and pretty 
 furniture. Her toilet things were on the dresser, a 
 few pictures made it homelike, and a vase of flowers on 
 the table added fragrance. She had been so happy! 
 What a hideous thing life was with its long, slow griefs, 
 and sudden blows! Death was not the thing to be 
 afraid of; it was life, life that was full of terror. 
 
 After a while she turned out the light and tried to 
 sleep, but in the dark her courage deserted her. A 
 wild panic seized her what would become of her now? 
 New York again, the grind to begin all over more aw- 
 ful now after the happiness she had known. She got 
 up, and moved restlessly about the room. Oh! to be 
 able to go out, to walk, and walk until she was so tired 
 that she couldn't think. But she couldn't do that, she 
 must wait, all her life she must just wait ! 
 
 Daylight found her waiting, sitting by the window, 
 staring with aching eyes at the young dawn. She was 
 in the same position several hours later when Hub- 
 bard knocked at her door. 
 
 "Are you ready to come out?" he asked. 
 
 "In a few minutes," she answered. 
 
 "I'll wait, don't hurry." 
 
 "Now I've got to tell him," she said to herself as 
 she hurried through her dressing. "I've got to tell him, 
 and, oh, God ! let him forgive me." But it was a prayer 
 uttered as all her prayers were, without hope of an 
 answer. 
 
 He met her with a grave, anxious face. "No sleep?" 
 
 "Not much nor you?" 
 
 "That doesn't matter, but I wish you could have 
 rested, you poor little thing." 
 148
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 "It's all right," she cut in nervously. "Where is 
 he?" 
 
 "Sending him back to his old home in Iowa; he al- 
 ways told me to do that he has a sister there, but let's 
 not talk about it." 
 
 "It's awful awful," she said with pale, quivering 
 lips. 
 
 "Yes, but let's not think about it now. Come on and 
 get some coffee." 
 
 But the breakfast was not a success, and they came 
 back to the hotel. At her door she said: "Come in, 
 Hub, and tell me what is going to happen." 
 
 "Of course, the act is closed," he said, following her 
 into the room. "We might get a man and finish out 
 the circuit, I suppose, but there's only a few weeks 
 more to play, so it isn't worth while. We've got our 
 transportation to Kansas City. Let's cut the business, 
 get married, and make for the plantation." 
 
 It had come, she braced herself to meet it. "If we 
 only could." 
 
 "Why not?" he asked, taking her cold hands in his. 
 
 "We can't oh, I can't tell you why you'll hate me." 
 
 "Tell me." 
 
 "Oh, Hub! I'm married already." 
 
 "You?" he asked, dropping her hands and looking 
 at her with beseeching, incredulous eyes. 
 
 "Yes, but " She wanted to tell him something of 
 
 her life, justify herself, but the words wouldn't come, 
 and he asked no question. 
 
 "Well, what's the answer?" he said at last. 
 
 "I'm going back to New York," she said wearily. 
 
 He walked over to the window, and stood where the 
 night before she had watched the theatre. "Oh, God 
 Evelyn!" And one big hand covered his face. 
 
 "Hub," she said desperately, "you must forgive me 
 
 I didn't mean " 
 
 140
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 "It isn't that I I can't talk about it. When do 
 you want to leave?" 
 
 "Soon as I can. Aren't you coming, too?" 
 
 "No ; I'm going over to the Islands. See about your 
 ticket." He started for the door. 
 
 "Hub please " she cried imploringly. 
 
 He came to her, drew her to him in a close, passion- 
 ately sad embrace. She clung to him, feeling weak and 
 faint in his arms. 
 
 "If you ever want me if I ever have a chance, let 
 me know the home place will reach me." 
 
 "You won't forget me?" 
 
 "Not in a thousand years." Their lips met in a long 
 kiss. "Good-bye, Love-girl." 
 
 That night he put her on the train to begin her long 
 journey eastward, and the next day he sailed for 
 Honolulu. 
 
 150
 
 CHAPTER FOURTEEN 
 
 A WEEK later Evelyn was occupying the hall bed- 
 room on the top floor of a rooming-house on Forty- 
 seventh Street. It was a small room with drab walls, 
 a faded blue carpet, an oak dresser, a table, a chair, 
 and in one corner an improvised closet of red velvet 
 curtains long since discarded from the parlor below. 
 One window looked out over back yards to the rear 
 of the houses in the next block cheerless within, un- 
 inviting without, but the price suited, and she decided 
 to stay. 
 
 She was worn out physically from the long cross- 
 country journey, and the emotional strain that she had 
 been under since McCarthy's death left her too weak 
 and depressed to face New York with hope and cour- 
 age. She had expected to find Mary Leighton in town 
 it was this prospect that had drawn her to Mrs. 
 Brady's house, but in answer to her question the land- 
 lady informed her that Miss Leighton had gone out a 
 week ago with a new melodrama. 
 
 Evelyn tried to rest, to prepare herself for the de- 
 scent on the managers and agents, but for once her 
 emotions refused subordination to the dictates of her 
 practical mind. She could not rest, and with her quiv- 
 ering nerves the routine of work-hunting was out of 
 the question. She was tortured by restlessness and a 
 great desire that drove her from the cell-like room to 
 the freedom of the streets. She walked up Broadway, 
 through the Park, down Fifth Avenue, across Forty- 
 second Street, looking in every face, listening to every 
 voice that spoke, hoping against every dictate of reason
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 that she would find Hubbard that by some chance he 
 had not gone to Hawaii. Her wish for him was so 
 great, her need so urgent, that at times she felt that her 
 will was strong enough to bring him across all space 
 to answer that need. 
 
 Lack of food and these long walks drove her home 
 so exhausted that she reached the top floor with diffi- 
 culty, but with this exhaustion of mind and weariness 
 of body sleep was not a friendly spirit. 
 
 The fourth night she lay inert on her bed, and watched 
 with aching eyes the dawn break over the world. A 
 light breeze blew in the window, and the sparrows 
 chirped under the eaves. She put one hot hand over 
 her eyes to shut out the light, the other picked feverishly 
 at the covering. 
 
 "Oh, God! if I could just sleep a little forget for 
 a little while. I've got to work, I can't go on like this 
 my money will go oh, God ! help me help me !" But 
 no answer came to this cry, and she rolled from one 
 side of the bed to the other, trying to find a position 
 that would more effectually woo sleep. 
 
 Unable to stand the torture any longer, she sprang 
 from the bed, and staggered across the room to the 
 chair that held her clothes. Her eagerness to get them 
 on was delayed by her lack of strength. She was grow- 
 ing afraid of her condition. There were sudden flashes 
 as though she had just waked from unconsciousness, she 
 had frequent impulses to scream a leap from the win- 
 dow loomed up in her mind as a possible escape from 
 her present agony. 
 
 She must get to a drug store, must get a powder that 
 would bring sleep. If she could only rest, forget for 
 a while, she would be able to cope with the situation, 
 but with this fire in her veins and this heaviness in 
 the head she could do nothing nothing but suffer. 
 
 At last she was dressed, and, snatching up her purse,
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 passed out into the dark hall. Here the young day had 
 not penetrated, and the only light was a faint gas jet 
 burning on the second floor. She stood for a moment 
 at the top of the stairs, and peered down. It seemed 
 such a long distance to the first floor, she wondered 
 how she had ever gotten up here. Holding on to the 
 railing, she started down, her strength going with each 
 step. She reached the second floor, traversed the short 
 hall, and started down the stairway. Over her head 
 the gas flickered, then darkness, and the roomers on 
 the second floor were awakened by a scream and the 
 thud of a body on the landing. 
 
 Two hours later an ambulance backed up to Mrs. 
 Brady's door, and Evelyn, unconscious of the world that 
 whirled about her, was borne away to Dr. Holt's pri- 
 vate sanitarium. In the delirium of fever she forgot 
 the sorrows that had worn her out, only to be tortured 
 by imaginary ones. 
 
 Dr. Holt shook his head as he bent over her bed. 
 "Bad case," he said to the nurse who stood by. "Bad, 
 bad heart action," he repeated. 
 
 "She's very young," the nurse answered. 
 
 "Yes, but old in life, a constitution undermined by 
 many hardships, and a nervous system too exhausted 
 for the last blow. Oh, the girls in that business what 
 lives what lives!" He reached down and took the 
 limp, hot hand in his. A low moan answered his touch. 
 
 Then random words, unconnected, but by which the 
 Doctor with his knowledge of girls of her type and 
 occupation was able to piece together a fairly coherent 
 story of her life. Friends, acquaintances, incidents 
 of the past that her conscious mind had long since 
 forgotten came to life in her delirium. She spoke to 
 her mother of the blooming rosebush in the garden; to 
 Hilda St. John; bits of talks with Mary were on her
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 lips; and she reminded Bob that he had promised to 
 cut out Scotch. 
 
 The nurse moved about with ice packs and thermome- 
 ters the Doctor came in every hour to direct her work, 
 each time lifting Evelyn's limp, hot hand and looking 
 anxiously, sadly down into the glazed eyes. 
 
 "Got to get that temperature down before the day 
 is over." He stooped and pushed the hair from the 
 burning forehead and felt again the leaping pulse. 
 
 Some association was touched in the disordered brain. 
 She seized his hand, stroked the back, ran out to the 
 tip of each finger, then a deep sigh of content. "Hub, 
 Hub," she whispered. She was quiet now, the eyes 
 closed, the parched lips relaxed, and her grip on the 
 Doctor's hand loosened. 
 
 Dr. Holt looked across the bed to the nurse and shook 
 his head slowly. "Damn these men," he said quietly. 
 
 The nurse answered with a smile. "Poor little thing," 
 she said. 
 
 After the first day of delirium she sank into a heavy 
 stupor, most of the time she slept, and Dr. Holt wel- 
 comed this. Her temperature was below the danger 
 point, and this rest of mind and body was the thing 
 that she needed. The fourth day she opened her eyes 
 and looked about. She felt very weak, but her brain 
 was clear. 
 
 "Where am I?" she asked, and at the sound of her 
 voice a nurse approached the bed. 
 
 "Feel better this morning?" 
 
 "Yes; have I been ill?" 
 
 "Yes, a little, but you are going to be all right now." 
 
 "Where am I now?" 
 
 "In Dr. Holt's sanitarium." 
 
 "How did I get here? Oh, I remember now I was 
 starting to the drug store I couldn't sleep, and then 
 I was afraid of the stairs <-"
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 "Now you must be a nice quiet girl, and I'll comb 
 your hair, wash your face, and then the Doctor will 
 come in, and you can have some breakfast." And Miss 
 Warner laid her magnetic fingers on Evelyn's brow 
 in a soothing stroke, and smiled down, until the wan 
 eyes smiled in return. 
 
 An hour later Dr. Holt came in to see. "Well, young 
 lady, you look fine this morning." 
 
 "I'll be able to get up to-morrow, won't I, Doctor?" 
 
 "I think not " 
 
 "But I " she began. 
 
 "Now, no worrying, there has been too much of that. 
 You get well and everything else will be all right." 
 
 "How did I happen to be here, Doctor ?" 
 
 "A young woman who lives in your house was here 
 once with just such a spell as you have had and she 
 called me up and asked me to bring you here, now 
 
 "Women women are very good, and some men, too," 
 she finished with a wistful smile at him. 
 
 "Quite so quite so," he laughed softly. "Now you 
 just rest and take things easy." 
 
 "I'll try, Doctor, but " 
 
 "No 'buts' they wear out your little body and make 
 you old before your time worry kills half of us." 
 
 "Sometimes you can't help it." 
 
 "That is what you must learn." He left her, after 
 a promise that she would be "absolutely cheerful" until 
 his return. 
 
 It was not a very difficult promise to keep amid such 
 pleasant surroundings, and the frequent visits of Miss 
 Warner helped greatly. 
 
 Late in the afternoon Dr. Holt came again, and they 
 had a talk that did her a great deal of good. It was 
 easier to talk to him than to any one she had ever known ; 
 she was even free enough to ask a question that had 
 for a long time puzzled her. 
 
 155
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 "Doctor, why is it that everything goes wrong with 
 me? I seem to be so on the wrong track. I try, and 
 the more I try the worse it seems to be. I left my 
 husband because I couldn't stand any more, and I 
 thought things would be better. If we could only know 
 what to do. I wouldn't mind suffering if I thought 
 that it was really meant to be, but I can't help feeling 
 that it is just because I am so stupid that I blunder all 
 of the time." 
 
 "Then we are all stupid, dear child. Men have been 
 trying to answer such questions for thousands of years. 
 You must keep on trying you'll work out of the tragic 
 zone. Your 'luck/ as they call it, will change. You have 
 much in your favour youth and a fairly strong body 
 perhaps you haven't been careful of your associations 
 we often let those close to us swamp us." 
 
 "Yes, I know; I'm weak, and I should like so to be 
 strong." 
 
 "You must fight for strength, you must realise that 
 your happiness and strength come from within, that 
 when you depend on some one else nine times out of 
 ten you are going to be disappointed." He talked to 
 her in this strain, knowing that her mind needed heal- 
 ing more than her body. And when other duties called 
 him, he left her feeling that he had given her a start 
 in the right direction. 
 
 He came again and again during the days that fol- 
 lowed, and each time the talk was an effort to build up 
 in her a desire to grip life and go on with the fight. 
 She was in a frame of mind where a negative suggestion 
 would have sent her hurtling into melancholia; and 
 with all the power and skill that thirty years of healing 
 had given him, he struggled to bring her to normality. 
 
 Little by little she told him of her life, and he met 
 each point with an irrefutable logic that changed her 
 whole mental attitude towards her troubles. He tried 
 156
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 to make her see that she was stronger for her sorrows, 
 that this weakness was only temporary, that she would 
 return to the world fortified and equipped for a win- 
 ning fight. 
 
 "I didn't know there were doctors in the world like 
 you," she said naively. 
 
 "There are a lot of us," he answered, "and more 
 coming." 
 
 "You don't give me any medicine." 
 
 "I would if you needed it, but I feed you well, and 
 make you rest, and we have fine talks." 
 
 "I wish everybody in the world could come to you," 
 she said. 
 
 Three weeks from the day of her arrival in the sani- 
 tarium, Evelyn was again in the hall bedroom on the 
 top floor of Mrs. Brady's theatrical rooming-house. Her 
 stay at Dr. Holt's had cut heavily into her slender sav- 
 ings, but she was full of hope and courage, and the 
 next morning saw her making the rounds of the agents 
 and managers. 
 
 Two weeks went by, and there was no work in sight. 
 She went once a week to see Dr. Holt, and his talks 
 saved her from depression, but as time wore on, and 
 her money dwindled, she grew anxious and sought al- 
 most fiercely for an engagement. 
 
 Then one morning she happened to be just the "type" 
 that a prominent manager was looking for and she was 
 engaged for a Broadway production at a salary of 
 sixty dollars a week. From this interview she returned 
 with her contract in hand, stilled and prayerful over 
 this great piece of good fortune. 
 
 "Oh, my luck my luck, you have changed at last!" 
 she said. 
 
 157
 
 CHAPTER FIFTEEN 
 
 new play for which Evelyn had been engaged 
 JL was to serve as a vehicle for the initial starring 
 of the manager's wife, a woman Broadway had 
 never accepted without reservation. For years she had 
 played leads with well-known male stars ; for years she 
 had been photographed and advertised, and Tilton 
 thought that the time was ripe to present her as a full- 
 fledged star. He secured a play by a prominent author, 
 ordered an elaborate scenic production, engaged a com- 
 pany of distinguished players, and commanded his press 
 agent to "get on the job." Tilton's pet theory was: 
 "Ram it down their throats hard enough and they'll 
 think they like it." 
 
 Evelyn's part was small, she appeared in one act only, 
 and had been engaged because she absolutely visualised 
 the character that Tilton had in his mind. She had been 
 selected out of twenty better-known actresses who had 
 been sent to interview him. He didn't have to know 
 if she could act another favourite remark of his was: 
 "Hitting the eye is nine-tenths of acting." At the be- 
 ginning of his career Tilton had been a ring-master in 
 the world's greatest circus, and he retained many of his 
 tan-bark values. 
 
 This was Evelyn's first engagement in a Broadway 
 production, and she was told to have her picture taken, 
 and turn them into the office for Press work. They got 
 out a story telling of the difficulty that Tilton had had 
 in finding a girl to fit the part, and how walking up 
 Broadway he had seen a girl pick up a lame puppy and 
 carry it into a drug store to telephone for the Humane 
 -158-
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 Society wagon; how Tilton had been struck by the ex- 
 pression on the girl's face, and after the dog had been 
 sent on its way, he approached her and asked her if she 
 would play a part in one of his plays. 
 
 Evelyn read the story with amazement, and blushed 
 deeply the next morning when the members of the com- 
 pany asked her if she had found any lame puppies on 
 her way to the theatre. Gordon Wayne followed up 
 the teasing when he found that she could blush over 
 it. Most of the women that he knew had lost the power 
 of blushing, and he found it a novel and charming pic- 
 ture the wave of colour in the usually pale cheeks, and 
 the averting of the questioning eyes. 
 
 Though Evelyn appeared in only one act, she was 
 kept at the theatre all through the rehearsals, for Paver 
 never knew just what scene Miss Hartwell was going 
 to do next. This gave Evelyn plenty of time to ob- 
 serve the members of the company, and she was inter- 
 ested in comparing them with her former associates. 
 Their clothes were better; the women wore soft cling- 
 ing gowns, and used subtle perfumes; the men all ap- 
 peared in snug-fitting suits, their shoulders devoid of 
 all padding, their collars and cuffs immaculate, their 
 scarfs unobtrusive and they all carried canes and smoked 
 cigarettes. 
 
 She liked to hear them speak, all of them, their voices 
 were pleasant, and their speech round and definite. They 
 discussed all matters and all persons with familiarity 
 and assurance the same qualities were in their act- 
 ing. In every external way they were vastly superior 
 to her old associates but they were not so kind. They 
 gossiped incessantly, and criticised each other unmerci- 
 fully, all the while keeping up a great show of good- 
 feeling and comradeship. 
 
 The two stars, Gordon Wayne and Ridgley Elaine, 
 who had been engaged to strengthen the cast, treated 
 
 159
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 Miss Hartwell with polite indifference. The other mem- 
 bers of the company, whose jobs were less secure, ex- 
 hibited an awed deference, varied by an occasional out- 
 burst of extravagant flattery were apparently grate- 
 ful when Miss Hartwell favoured them with a word 
 or smile, but when her back was turned she was a "cat" 
 and a "rep actress trying to star," and other equally 
 unflattering things. Miss Hartwell, well versed in hu- 
 man nature, sensed their attitudes and exacted every 
 vestige of respect and deference that was her due; re- 
 warding them sometimes with a superior gracious word, 
 more often presenting to them a threatening hauteur. 
 
 The rehearsals dragged on, and week after week the 
 opening was postponed. Scenes had to be rewritten, 
 actors changed, scenery built. The locale of the third 
 act was changed and a whole new set had to be ordered. 
 Tilton was sparing no expense, and taking his own time. 
 
 The actors grumbled, and lost interest; the star grew 
 irritable and found fault with the members of the com- 
 pany, tried to show them how to act many with more 
 reputation and ability than she. But in view of the 
 excellent salaries that Tilton was paying, and the long 
 season he had promised, they stood for her directions, 
 though they abused her soundly behind her back. 
 
 Encouraged by her success in instructing the minor 
 members of the cast, Miss Hartwell attempted to show 
 Gordon Wayne how to play his drunken scene in the 
 second act. In the middle of the object-lesson he left 
 the stage, picked up his hat and cane, and in a calm, 
 courteous voice said: "An excellent performance, Miss 
 Hartwell, but imitations are out of my line I bid you 
 good-day." 
 
 This speech and the departure of Gordon Wayne pre- 
 cipitated a scene that refused to down even when Tilton, 
 in answer to a hurried summons from his director, 
 rushed into the theatre. It had been his morning to 
 160
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 see about the scenery, and the rehearsal had been left 
 in the hands of Miss Hartwell, and Paver, an anemic, 
 sycophantic stage manager who never by any happy 
 chance did the right thing at the right time. 
 
 Miss Hartwell's first response to the parting shot 
 of her leading man was an indignant speech delivered 
 from the centre of the stage. 
 
 "Such insolence such conceit ! A man who has never 
 been a successful star no wonder! He knows it all! 
 Such insolence!" She repeated the phrase now with 
 a rising, now with a falling, inflection. 
 
 The members of the company, seated about the stage 
 on chairs and boxes, looked on with expressionless faces, 
 all but old man James, who retired to a corner for a 
 chuckle at her discomfiture. She had been making 
 his life miserable for days, and he, too valueless to pro- 
 test, now rejoiced in the public rebuke that Gordon had 
 given her. 
 
 "Such insolence !" she cried again. "Where is Paver?" 
 she demanded, looking about. "Paver where are you ?" 
 
 There was no answer, for Paver had rushed to the 
 front of the house to telephone for Tilton. Poor Paver, 
 it was his tragedy that, in spite of his heroic efforts 
 to please the Tiltons, he was never known to succeed. 
 He held his position because a man of more purpose 
 and more force could not have stood the exactions and 
 humiliations put upon him by Tilton and his tempera- 
 mental wife. 
 
 "Paver! That man was never known to be in the 
 right place in his life! At the first sign of trouble he 
 runs like a deer! I wonder that this play is ever pro- 
 duced. No co-operation nothing but uphill work for 
 me and Mr. Tilton. And yet, oh, God ! some women 
 want to star." Still hugging the centre of the stage, 
 Miss Hartwell's mood changed she was overcome with 
 self-pity. Then looking about at the expressionless faces 
 
 161
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 of her company, her anger rose against them. They lined 
 up in her mind with Gordon Wayne all plotting against 
 her, and the success of the play. 
 
 This was her first starring venture, towards which 
 she had moved for years in spite of the lack of appre- 
 ciation of the general public. But under all her super- 
 ficiality there was a substratum of purpose, a boundless 
 belief in her own ability, and through this she had swept 
 Tilton on until he was ready to make this elaborate 
 production to introduce her. In his heart he thought 
 acting counted for little the trick was to keep handing 
 the public a thing until they thought they liked it. It 
 was about time that they decided to like Miss Hartwell. 
 
 Having telephoned, Paver rushed from the front of 
 the house to the stage, wiping his cold, perspiring hands 
 on his handkerchief. He knew that he would bear 
 the brunt of her displeasure, but he must stand it, for 
 she had promised to put his name on the programme as 
 the producer of "The Higher Law." 
 
 "Well," Miss Hartwell greeted him, "what became of 
 you? You leave me here to be insulted by an insolent 
 actor?" 
 
 "I went to 'phone Mr. Tilton he'll be right over," he 
 answered. 
 
 "Aren't you able to manage these people? You call 
 yourself a producer, I believe and yet, oh, what a 
 position for me ! insulted, annoyed by an incompetent 
 actor oh!" Tears filled her eyes and she began to 
 sob. 
 
 While her eyes were covered with her drenched hand- 
 kerchief, the members of the company exchanged amused 
 glances. Tilton burst in on this scene. 
 
 "What's the matter?" he demanded. "Winnie, what is 
 it Paver?" 
 
 For answer Winine sobbed more violently, and Paver 
 wiped his hands more nervously. It was a difficult sittta- 
 162
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 tion; he dared not offend Miss Hartwell by minimising 
 Wayne's behaviour, nor did he care to go on record 
 before the company as having spoken against a man of 
 Wayne's position. 
 
 "A little trouble between Miss Hartwell and Mr. 
 Wayne " he began. 
 
 "Where is he?" Tilton asked. 
 
 "Little trouble?" Winnie demanded, forsaking her 
 handkerchief. "Such insolence you never heard. I 
 wanted him to change some business, and he insulted 
 me, and left the theatre. Nobody said a word to him 
 Paver ran away !" And she glared at the luckless Paver. 
 
 "I went to phone Mr. Tilton." 
 
 "The company is dismissed for the day," Tilton broke 
 in. "Ten o'clock to-morrow for rehearsal." 
 
 They took up their hats and parts, and filed out, linger- 
 ing as long as possible, hoping to hear more of the row, 
 but Winnie sobbed quietly, and Tilton and Paver stood 
 silent in the centre of the stage until the last actor had 
 disappeared. 
 
 "Now, Winnie," Tilton said sternly, "I told you to let 
 people alone. You want to kill the show before it opens 
 you can't treat men like Wayne that way, they won't 
 stand it. Grimshaw is trying to get him away from me 
 now, and here you come with your " 
 
 'I didn't do anything I just wanted- 
 
 "I know," he broke in impatiently, "but you aren't here 
 to direct I'll do that, and when I'm away Paver will 
 see to it. This show's to open Monday, and suppose I 
 can't get Wayne back ? We don't stand a chance without 
 him. I'm paying him a big salary for his drawing power 
 he'll bring ten people into the house where you'll bring 
 one at first. Now I've had enough trouble with this 
 show, and you either behave, or I'll call the whole thing 
 off." 
 
 "I shouldn't care in the least if you did." 
 
 -163-
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 "You say that now!" he said with a shrug. "Paver, 
 go down to the studio and see about that last act." 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 "Come on, Winnie I've got the car, I'll take you 
 home." 
 
 "I won't come, I don't want to star in this piece." 
 
 "Never mind that now," he said soothingly. "Come on," 
 and he took her by the arm and led her to the waiting 
 automobile. 
 
 The next few hours were strenuous ones for Tilton, 
 with two outraged "artists" to placate, but he was 
 evidently successful, for they both appeared the next 
 morning at ten. Miss Hartwell brave in a new French 
 gown, and a gorgeous plumed hat reached the theatre 
 first, and ten minutes later Gordon Wayne entered. He 
 lifted his hat as he passed her, and she nodded her 
 head. He crossed the stage, sat down by Evelyn, and 
 asked in a pleasant, casual voice, "Find any more sick 
 puppies this morning?" 
 
 She laughed, and the sound made the others glance 
 her way. Miss Hartwell looked over with stern, disap- 
 proving eyes. And when Evelyn began her scene in 
 the second act, she realised that this morning she was 
 the object of the royal displeasure. 
 
 "Why don't you keep the readings you were given?" 
 Miss Hartwell asked in a voice that said, of course with 
 your intelligence that isn't possible, but I want you to 
 acknowledge it before the company. 
 
 "I didn't know that I had changed the reading," 
 Evelyn answered, and in fact she was giving the exact 
 reading that Paver had insisted on yesterday. 
 
 "You were told to emphasise 'house' in that speech 
 'Came to our house wasn't that the idea ?" 
 
 "I don't remember it that way, but I'll try." She gave 
 the new reading it was false and her intelligence 
 164
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 rebelled against it, but she knew that she must do as 
 she was told. 
 
 "Go over it and see if it is planted. Every day some- 
 body in this company changes readings." 
 
 They went back several speeches and when they got to 
 the one in question, Evelyn in her nervousness read it 
 in the old way. 
 
 Miss Hartwelt threw up her hands. "Can't you 
 remember?" she asked. 
 
 Tilton was walking up and down the front of the 
 stage, wishing that Winnie would shut up, and let the 
 actors alone. He knew that she was in the wrong, but 
 in her condition, he knew also that one word from him 
 would bring on another scene. 
 
 Paver leaning against the proscenium arch looked on 
 anxiously wiping his hands as usual on his handkerchief. 
 Gordon Wayne, not required in this scene, was seated in 
 a corner reading a newspaper. At Miss Hartwell's last 
 speech he looked over the top of his paper with a grim 
 smile on his lips. 
 
 "Try it again," Miss Hartwell said, "it seems strange 
 to me that for four weeks you have been rehearsing and 
 now you can't read a line as you have been told. The 
 stage seems to attract all of the stupid, incompetent people 
 in the world !" 
 
 At this Gordon Wayne dropped his paper. "Say, 
 what's the matter with you, Paver? Three times yes- 
 terday you went over that line with this young lady 
 so that she would emphasise 'came/ and now you stand 
 by and never say a word ; besides," he added in a lower 
 tone, " 'came' is the word in the sentence." 
 
 "Mr. Wayne, this is not your company " Miss 
 
 Hartwell began with blazing eyes. 
 
 "You bet it isn't," he answered, "if it were, there 
 would be a competent director about, and no bullying 
 of defenceless girls allowed." 
 
 -165-
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 "Am I to stand for such insolence ?" Winnie demanded 
 of her husband. 
 
 "Jump that speech and go on with the scene," Tilton 
 commanded. "We open with this show Monday night, 
 and I don't want any more rows. And I'll do all of the 
 directing hereafter that goes for all of you." 
 
 Miss Hartwell's first impulse was to leave the theatre 
 in superb indignation, but the repeated assurance that 
 they would open Monday night caused her to forego a 
 dramatic exit, and to go on with the scene. She punished 
 Gordon Wayne by never speaking to him again, nor did 
 Evelyn ever draw from her any sign of recognition. 
 
 "I think we'll have an interesting affair to watch," she 
 said later to Stanley Harper, a juvenile who played her 
 brother. 
 
 "Yes where?' 1 he asked, though he knew perfectly 
 well hei meaning. 
 
 "I mean that little pale person evidently pleases the 
 great Mr. Wayne." 
 
 "She isn't exactly his style." 
 
 "You couldn't say that she was any style but she has 
 those innocent eyes that are effective when a man is 
 worn out with other types." 
 
 Harper shrugged his shoulders, not caring to commit 
 himself, and was glad when he was called for his scene. 
 "What a cat," he said to himself, as he walked away. 
 
 The company composed of twenty actors, a working 
 staff of six, the producer, author, manager and the 
 author's wife, left Saturday night for Rochester. Sunday 
 was to be devoted to putting up the scenery, and Sunday 
 night the dress rehearsal would be held. 
 
 They arrived in Rochester early Sunday morning, and 
 
 as Evelyn left the station she saw Gordon Wayne and a 
 
 stranger step into a taxicab, and for a moment her 
 
 impulse was to call one for herself, but thrift triumphed, 
 
 166
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 and she boarded a car, and rode up to a hotel where 
 rooms were to be had for a dollar a day. 
 
 During the afternoon she walked about the city, 
 returned, had a nap and dinner, and at seven o'clock was 
 at the theatre to get ready for the dress rehearsal. 
 
 A scene of confusion and disorder greeted her, as 
 she opened the stage door the sound of hammers, the 
 hurrying of property boys, the frantic calling of Paver 
 from the centre of the stage to the men in the flies. The 
 first act set was not up, and as she passed the head car- 
 penter she heard him send to everlasting perdition the 
 men in New York who had built it. 
 
 She looked in the mail box, but there were no letters 
 for her, no telegram wishing her happiness and success. 
 From the list on the call board she learned that she was 
 to dress with Ann Dwight, the ingenue of the cast. 
 
 She found Ann in. She had, of course, taken the 
 dressing stand with the best light, and had hung her 
 clothes on most of the hooks in the room. But Evelyn 
 was too nervous and anxious over the ordeal ahead of 
 her to care anything about Ann's selfishness. It terri- 
 fied her to think of the number of people she had to 
 please Tilton, Miss Hartwell, the author, and his wife, 
 and possibly others. 
 
 She moved about unpacking her things, and laying out 
 her make-up. She was not on until the second act, and 
 she knew that it would be hours before it was called 
 hours in which to think and fear. 
 
 "Like my clothes ?" Ann asked, breaking the silence of 
 the room. 
 
 "Yes, they are charming," Evelyn answered, glancing 
 at the array on the hooks. "I like the pink one 
 especially." 
 
 "Well, it ought to be good looking, cost me a hundred 
 and a quarter. This play will have to run a long time for 
 me to get back what I have spent in clothes." 
 
 -167-
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 "Did you have to get such expensive ones?" Evelyn 
 asked. 
 
 "Yes, of course. I play Hartwell's sister, and her 
 things will cost 'a million,' and so mine have to look like 
 something." 
 
 "It is dreadful that they didn't furnish your things. 
 Mine amount to so little, but you have three gowns and 
 hats, too," Evelyn said sympathetically. 
 
 "Well, Tilton is paying me a pretty decent salary," 
 Ann said, "but even at that to spend four hundred dol- 
 lars for your clothes on just a chance is enough to give 
 one the shivers." 
 
 "The play has a good chance to succeed," Evelyn 
 said. 
 
 "Yes," Ann answered, "and it has a good chance not to 
 Hartwell isn't much of a favourite they can't see her 
 in New York. But I hope it will go, it gives me an op- 
 portunity on Broadway, and that is what we all want in 
 this business. I have been in six Broadway productions 
 in the last three years and though some of them were 
 failures, the managers know me, and the public, too. I 
 always get a reception on the opening night, and my 
 salary has gone right on up, so I think it is best to stick 
 to the new productions even if it is such a gamble." Ann 
 rambled on with the talk about herself, how she always 
 seemed to open in Rochester, what the critics had said 
 of her, and the parts she had turned down to accept this 
 one. "It was really a good part when I first read it, 
 but they have given every decent line I had to Hartwell. 
 Really, your part is better than mine even if it is short." 
 
 Evelyn did not answer; she found this continued talk 
 of self very tiresome. Even Hilda in the old days had 
 not been so engrossingly and unconsciously egotistical 
 often in the midst of some tale of triumph, she would 
 laugh and say, "I hate myself, don't I? You know, 
 Evelyn, I don't believe all of this junk about myself, but 
 168
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 I've got in the habit of always telling a brave tale." And 
 she and Evelyn would laugh over the matter. But Ann 
 was so serious, so thoroughly unaware that there was 
 another human being in the room who might have a his- 
 tory of some interest. She kept the talk close to her 
 own achievements, and scarcely seemed aware that Evelyn 
 no longer answered her with appropriate wonder and 
 appreciation. 
 
 "I'm so nervous," she said at last, "Hartwell will be 
 sure to find fault with my clothes. Wasn't she funny 
 when she nagged you just because you laughed at Gordon 
 Wayne when she was so out with him?" 
 
 "Was that why?" Evelyn asked. 
 
 "Didn't you know that? We all got it. It was bully 
 of him to speak up I guess he is about the most fearless 
 man we have in this business. Well, he can afford to be, 
 he has a lot of money, besides what he earns, and you 
 know his brother is Bratton Wayne, the big novelist 
 I guess he is on for the opening." 
 
 "I saw a man get in the taxi with him this morning." 
 
 "That was his brother. He is always on hand for the 
 openings. He is very attractive, don't you think ?" 
 
 Before Evelyn could answer a voice outside the door 
 called out, "Half Hour," and Ann in a panic stopped her 
 gossiping and got into her gown. 
 
 "Will you hook me, please ?" she asked, backing up to 
 Evelyn. 
 
 Evelyn fastened the dress in silence, thinking all the 
 while of the information Ann had just imparted. 
 What a wonderful world she had dropped into famous 
 actors, and authors, and the atmosphere of lavishness 
 and success. She was in a big Broadway production, the 
 dream of every member of the theatrical profession. 
 How far away seemed the old days ! How far away 
 seemed old friends even Hubbard, but a little stab of 
 
 169
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 pain reminded her that the memory of him was not 
 dim. 
 
 "Where are you stopping ?" Ann was asking, and when 
 Evelyn replied she went on, "I thought of going there, 
 but I came up in a cab with Miss Blaney, and she was 
 going to the Seneca and so I did, too. I have a room 
 and bath, and it's awfully expensive but people in a 
 company like this judge you by your hotel." 
 
 "How can they judge you? It simply means that you 
 haven't a lot of money." 
 
 "I don't know, but they do. They think you are getting 
 a small salary and " 
 
 "Fifteen minutes," the voice of the assistant stage 
 manager called down the corridor. 
 
 "Oh, I'm so nervous ! Every line has gone out of my 
 head. I'm scared to death, aren't you?" Ann asked. 
 
 "Well, I've been calmer, but you must try not to think 
 about it you are fine and they like you, so why should 
 you feel anxious ?" 
 
 "You are awfully good," Ann said, touched by this 
 encouragement. "You are bully in your bit I think 
 you'll make a hit," she added not to be outdone in 
 magnanimity. Ann was kind-hearted in spite of her 
 egotism, and loyal, as Evelyn afterwards found out, and 
 they grew in time to like each other as well as was possi- 
 ble considering their fundamental dissimilarity. 
 
 There was a long pause in the dressing room. Evelyn 
 was making up, and Ann putting the last polish on her 
 finger nails when the first act was called. 
 
 "Good luck to you," Evelyn said, as Ann started 
 towards the door. 
 
 She turned to answer, "The same to you." 
 
 Evelyn followed her to the door, and peeped out at 
 the stage. As she stood there Gordon Wayne passed. 
 "May I wish you great success?" she said, remembering 
 his championship at the rehearsal. 
 170
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 "Thanks," he said heartily. "Aren't you coming out 
 to look at the first act?" 
 
 "I'm afraid I'd be in the way." 
 
 "Go out front and sit in the back of the house no 
 one will know anything about it." 
 
 "I'm afraid," she repeated, "you know I am not in high 
 favour." 
 
 "The old cat," he said. "Get dressed and I'll fix it for 
 you." 
 
 She turned in to the dressing room, and put on the little 
 black dress which she was to wear in the next act. By 
 the time she had fastened it there was a knock at the 
 door, and she opened it to find Gordon Wayne and 
 another man outside. 
 
 "Miss Lane, may I present my brother? He is going 
 to sit out front and will look after you." 
 
 This, then, was Bratton Wayne, the novelist; this 
 slight man with a thin refined face, and eyes that gleamed 
 behind shell-bound glasses; whose cool, slender hand 
 gave hers a hearty shake, and took her arm to guide 
 her through the door that opened into the dark boxes. 
 
 "We'll sit in the rear so as not to interfere with the 
 managerial conferences," he said. 
 
 She was wondering how she should talk to him. He 
 would think her stupid, or perhaps he had rather she 
 didn't talk at all that at least was safer. 
 
 They seated themselves in one of the back rows of 
 the darkened theatre. Down near the orchestra pit a 
 single light burned and seated about it was a small group, 
 among them Tilton and Carl Van Horn, the author. The 
 curtain was down, and the house so still that the talk 
 between the group was easily heard by Bratton Wayne 
 and Evelyn. 
 
 "I never wanted him," the author was saying; "he's not 
 my idea of the part." 
 
 "Well, he rounds out the cast you'll see," Tilton put 
 
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 The Least Resistance 
 
 in, "and he gives weight to that scene in the second act 
 just where your play is weakest. I know he wears a wig 
 that you can spot a mile away, but you forget that when 
 he begins to act." 
 
 Evelyn breathed a sigh of relief, they were not dis- 
 cussing Gordon Wayne, as she had feared, but Ridgely 
 Blaine, the heavy man. She was not aware that her sigh 
 had been audible until the voice at her side said, "I 
 shouldn't have minded." 
 
 "Oh," she said, and after a moment's pause added, "It 
 must be wonderful to be so clever, not stupid and 
 groping " 
 
 He was a man with a large and appreciative public, but 
 this ingenuous compliment touched him as elaborate and 
 intentional flattery never could. There was a wistfulness 
 about her, a something in her voice that said, "Had I 
 your wisdom the dark places in my life would be made 
 light." 
 
 "Most of us are groping," he said, turning to her with 
 a new interest. 
 
 "You?" she asked. 
 
 "Incessantly." 
 
 She made no answer, and they sat in silence until the 
 curtain went up on the luxurious interior of the heroine's 
 house. An immaculate butler entered bearing a tea tray ; 
 he deposited it on the centre table, lighted the spirit 
 lamp, and withdrew. Ann Dwight danced on in appro- 
 priate ingenue fashion, but before she could speak her 
 first line Tilton called out, "Wait! Cut out that blue 
 light on the back drop electrician Sam Paver !" 
 
 Paver thrust a pale face through the right stage door, 
 and peered down into the orchestra. 
 
 "Yes, Mr. Tilton yes, sir?" 
 
 "What are you lighted up for back there a scene on 
 the Nile? It's afternoon in New York City." 
 
 "It's five o'clock winter afternoon pretty dark, sir." 
 172
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 "Yes, but a grey dark, not blue. Looks like you have 
 cornered the indigo trust." 
 
 "All right, sir. I'll fix it. Sam Sam " He dis- 
 appeared, calling wildly to the electrician. 
 
 The curtain remained up while Paver and Sam experi- 
 mented with the lights on the back drop. The talk 
 between the men down front was resumed, but in a lower 
 key. 
 
 Evelyn made no effort to talk to Bratton Wayne, she 
 was too interested in what was going on before her. It 
 was all so exciting, so different from anything she had 
 ever known. She hoped that she was going to be able 
 to keep her engagement, but she had antagonised the 
 star and her head was apt to fall any time, and then 
 she would be back in New York face to face with the 
 old problems. The man next to her stirred, and turning 
 she saw in the half light his profile, the sharply defined 
 nose, the glasses bound in tortoise shell, the thin lips 
 parted in a smile. 
 
 "Wonderful things, these productions," he said, "a 
 few incompetent men get together and cook up a thing 
 that means nothing. Van Horn fills a lot of pages with 
 tea and socialism, and passes it on to Tilton, who sees a 
 fine chance for his wife to wear 'swell gowns', and play 
 about in a Fifth Avenue mansion. He engages Paver, 
 and Paver knows as much about a 'coherent whole' as a 
 jellyfish. He depends on the electrician, who knows all 
 about 'juice' but nothing about twilight." 
 
 "Yes," she said, with a subdued laugh, "that's all true." 
 
 "The actors are selected for their 'type' value, then 
 Tilton trims them to suit his idea of Van Horn's char- 
 acters and Van was born in Washington Square and 
 went to Harvard, and Tilton is an ex-ringmaster." 
 
 "Perhaps that's why he can make us all jump 
 through." 
 
 Bratton laughed. "Perhaps. And then after we have 
 
 173 
 
 .-
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 abused these fellows fellows like Tilton, we've got to 
 acknowledge that they are remarkable. They have little 
 education, and less culture, but they seem to have a sixth 
 sense that qualifies them for this business. The moment 
 he saw you, he knew that he wanted you for the part, 
 didn't he?" 
 
 "Yes," she answered. 
 
 "There you are ! The manuscript calls for a small dark 
 girl that was the author's idea, but when Tilton saw you 
 he recognised a quality that no small dark girl would 
 possess." 
 
 "What quality?" she asked. 
 
 "It eludes words," he said, after a pause. "I've only 
 seen you twice," he laughed a little. "Perhaps 
 later " 
 
 "Twice?" 
 
 "Yes, I saw the last rehearsal in New York, and just 
 now at your door ah, here we are !" 
 
 Tilton was calling out, "that's better better," to the 
 electrician who was trying different slides on his lamps. 
 "That will do! Ring down now, Paver, and begin all 
 over. And people everybody concerned in the first 
 act, on the stage, please." 
 
 There was another wait, and the voice of Paver calling 
 behind scenes, "Everybody in the first act, please come 
 on the stage. Everybody in the first act !" 
 
 One by one the actors appeared, Miss Hartwell in an 
 elaborate afternoon gown, and gorgeous furs, Ann 
 Dwight, Gordon Wayne, the maid, the butler and all the 
 minor characters concerned in the opening act. Paver 
 appeared wiping his hands on his handkerchief, and 
 looking paler than usual in the glare of the footlights. 
 
 "Mr. Elaine can't get on just now, Mr. Tilton." 
 
 Tilton paused. He was not used to insubordination, 
 and it irked him, but he knew the temper and wit of 
 Elaine, and that in any encounter the actor would emerge 
 174
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 triumphant, so he contented himself with, "Very well. 
 Now listen, people, this piece depends on getting this first 
 act over, and it's up to you. Mr. Van Horn has given us 
 his best, and I have done all I can, now you must do 
 the rest, and remember: Speed and Tension and Style! 
 Every word is important, so say them so that the man 
 in the last row can hear. That's all fire away, Paver." 
 
 The actors retired from the stage, the curtain went 
 down, to rise the next moment for the opening of the 
 play. 
 
 The act dragged along, there was no disguising that it 
 was "talky" and slow, though the actors were doing their 
 best. Suddenly it halted altogether, and off stage Paver 
 was calling, "Mr. Elaine, we are waiting for you." And 
 after what seemed an interminable wait Elaine appeared. 
 
 From the moment of his entrance the play assumed 
 shape and purpose, and Evelyn's mind ceased to revolve 
 about the last remark of Bratton Wayne's and gave 
 itself entirely to the stage, where Elaine's powerful 
 personality was making a rather artificial situation seem 
 actual, and real. 
 
 In this act the character which she was to create was 
 spoken of again and again, and she caught for the first 
 time her true relation to the other characters. It filled 
 her with a new and strange excitement, an impulse and 
 desire to act, and with these emotions came a pride 
 that she was with an organisation so important and 
 imposing. 
 
 This was a moment, such as had been the one when 
 Bob struck her she broke with the old, and became a 
 part of the new. She was no longer a stranger, but an 
 integral part of the company. She felt a faint sense of 
 superiority, and for the first time in her life a conviction 
 that the future held wonderful things in store for her. 
 
 The act closed, and the curtain rang down. It went up 
 immediately, and all the actors filed on the stage. Tilton 
 
 175
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 rose, with pad in his hand Van Horn stood by with a 
 similar pad they had made many notes, and were pro- 
 fuse in their criticisms and suggestions. The company 
 listened attentively, then withdrew. Miss Hartwell came 
 down to the footlights, called Tilton and held a whispered 
 conference with him. A moment later he sent the 
 stage manager for Ann Dwight. 
 
 "I'm sorry, Miss Dwight," he said, as she appeared, 
 "but that gown of yours won't do, it is entirely too elabor- 
 ate for this act." 
 
 There was a pause before the little ingenue could pull 
 herself together sufficiently to reply in a spirit which 
 would indicate that no matter how harsh the decisions 
 of Mr. Tilton were, they were just and right and to be 
 obeyed. 
 
 "I'm sorry, Mr. Tilton I can't get one by to-morrow. 
 What shall I do?" 
 
 "Haven't you got a little white dress that you could 
 wear?" Miss Hartwell asked. 
 
 "Not with me." 
 
 "Try the stores here you'll have to do something 
 your gown is all out of keeping with your character," 
 Miss Hartwell said, finally. 
 
 "Why didn't they know about that dress a week ago ?" 
 Bratton Wayne asked Evelyn. "That's another example 
 of Tilton's attention to detail he leaves a thing like a 
 gown to the judgment of a poor little actress who is 
 anxious to shine." 
 
 "It cost a lot of money, and she was so proud of it," 
 Evelyn replied. "I must go back to see her. I have a 
 dress that would do, and I can alter it to fit her. Good- 
 bye, and thank you." She slipped from his side, and 
 felt her way along the row of seats, down the aisle 
 through the dark boxes to the stage. In the dressing 
 room she found Ann Dwight in tears. 
 
 "That Hartwell cat," she cried, "she had me get that 
 176
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 dress she told me the color, and stuff, and almost 
 designed it, and now she says it won't do Tilton would 
 never have thought of it. Oh, she's a cat !" 
 
 "Don't worry about it now," Evelyn answered ; "I have 
 a white muslin dress in my trunk that I can alter for 
 you and it will do until you can get a better one." 
 
 "Oh, can you? that is fine!" Ann said, brightening up. 
 
 Evelyn dived into her trunk and brought up a soft 
 white frock that her own taste had designed, and her 
 own fingers put together. It was dainty, and as she shook 
 it out it gave forth a faint fragrance. 
 
 "That is awfully pretty," Ann said, who was prepared 
 to admire anything that would help her out of her diffi- 
 culty. "And it's hand-made," she added, as she in- 
 spected it. 
 
 "Yes, made by my hands try it on." 
 
 "I think you are awfully smart to be able to do a thing 
 like this!"' 
 
 During the hour that was required to put up the 
 second act, Ann tried on the dress, and Evelyn ran a 
 tuck around it to make it short enough for the little 
 ingenue. 
 
 Ann, still hysterical, varied her gratitude to Evelyn 
 with abuse of Miss Hartwell. She recounted all of the 
 scandal that had attended the marriage of the Tiltons. 
 How Winnie had made him get rid of his first wife who 
 had come up with him from circus days, and how she 
 had sent Billy Andrews to a drunkard's grave by desert- 
 ing him for Tilton. Evelyn sewed on through this stream 
 of talk the exhilaration that had come to her as she 
 sat out front ebbing as the sordid tale was unfolded. 
 
 She breathed a sigh of relief when "second act 
 second act" was sounded in the passage before their door. 
 She ran to her dressing table, freshened up her make-up, 
 settled the tarn o'shanter on her head and left the room 
 with Ann calling "Good luck!" after her. 
 
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 The Least Resistance 
 
 The curtain went up, and down again to make some 
 changes in the placement of the furniture. Evelyn peer- 
 ing out through a crack in the door to see the beautiful 
 set, did not hear Gordon Wayne come up by her until 
 he spoke wishing her the "best of luck." 
 
 "Oh, thank you so much; and it was fine out front 
 it was good of you." 
 
 "Not nervous, are you?" he asked, knowing well from 
 the quality of her voice that she was. 
 
 "A little and awfully anxious to get through all 
 right." 
 
 "You needn't worry, you'll do that." 
 
 A few minutes later she heard her cue and walked 
 on the stage. There had been so much talk about the 
 character in the first act that she had a well built up 
 entrance. On the strength of her appearance she had 
 been engaged, and it was this appearance and personality 
 that was carrying her through the scene the wistf ulness, 
 the timidity, the eyes with their unanswered "Why." 
 
 Out front Bratton Wayne leaned forward, Carl Van 
 Horn, who was standing, sat down ; even Tilton discon- 
 tinued his use of the pad and pencil. She had struck 
 the right note and the scene went through smoothly and 
 effectively. 
 
 When the act was over they had only one suggestion 
 to make to her some detail of her make-up that she 
 could improve. 
 
 It was past midnight, and they were only through the 
 second act. There was everywhere tension and excite- 
 ment, and complaints of hunger and thirst. 
 
 Evelyn was through with her work, but they all had 
 been told to stay until the rehearsal was over, as Mr. 
 Van Horn was going to make a few slight changes in 
 the script, and it was necessary for everybody to be 
 present. This was no hardship to Evelyn, for she had
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 no desire to leave the theatre for the stupidity of her 
 room at the hotel. 
 
 At one o'clock, the third act not being yet set, Tilton 
 sent out for coffee and sandwiches, and the hungry 
 company gathered about to eat and drink. Gordon 
 Wayne called out to his brother, and as he came hurrying 
 back, Evelyn with a new assurance handed him a cup 
 of coffee. 
 
 He thanked her with a smile, and soon they were 
 chatting like old friends. And at three o'clock when the 
 dress rehearsal was over, he came to her door to say 
 that he and his brother would be very glad to take her 
 home in their cab. 
 
 "Well, you've made two hits to-night," Ann Dwight 
 said, as Evelyn turned into the room to get her hat and 
 coat, and the words evoked the mood of the early part 
 of the evening a sensation of being a rather important 
 and worth-while member of society.
 
 THE drive to the hotel through the silent, deserted 
 streets with the Wayne brothers climaxed the 
 evening. At her side sat Gordon, and opposite her 
 the novelist. Although it was late, and the former had 
 been at work for hours, they talked gaily of the dress 
 rehearsal. 
 
 "That emotional scene between Elaine and Hartwell is 
 as fine a dog fight as I've ever seen," Gordon said ; "the 
 heavy barking of the mastiff Elaine, and the yelping of 
 well, I guess you know what breed yelps " 
 
 "It occurs to me that I do," his brother answered and 
 they laughed at the pun. 
 
 "And Paver the Prince of Incompetents came into 
 his own to-night; nothing he had touched was right. 
 Tilton bawled him out, Hartwell shrieked at him, and 
 even the carpenter picked on him poor old dub, he 
 must have worn out five handkerchiefs, but the damned 
 spot would not out !" Gordon finished with a flourish. 
 
 "Don't you feel sorry for Paver he is built for his 
 business the human football he can't lose " 
 
 "There is nothing there to be lost," his brother broke 
 in, and all laughed again. 
 
 "Never mind that," Bratton went on, "some day he'll 
 be one of our best known producers as I said, he can't 
 lose " 
 
 "And as I said, but I'll save it for the Club it will go 
 well there." 
 
 Evelyn took no part in this talk, but leaned back in 
 her corner, relaxed and happy. She felt remarkably at 
 180
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 home with these two men, and so swiftly did she assimi- 
 late the softer and pleasanter side of life, that when a 
 belated street car whirred past, she felt a quick stab of 
 pity for such as must ride in them when there were such 
 delightful things in the world as taxicabs. She hoped 
 by some trick of fate that she would be able always to 
 go about so perhaps if she worked hard, and got to be 
 a great actress and made a lot of money 
 
 Her dreaming was cut short by the stopping of the 
 cab before her hotel. Bratton leaped out, and helped 
 her to alight. He shook hands warmly, as he said 
 "good night," and from the cab Gordon called out "Sleep 
 well." 
 
 She did sleep well, but before she lost consciousness, 
 she half regretted that she hadn't been a little more reck- 
 less and gone to a first-class hotel. Her room was 
 such a let-down from the excitement and flavour of the 
 evening. It would have been wonderful to have come 
 into a beautifully furnished room, to have looked down 
 on a soft pleasing carpet instead of this worn ugly one ; 
 to have turned her eyes to restful grey walls, with perhaps 
 a garland of pink roses at the top ; to have stood before 
 a wide mahogany dresser, and looked into a clear French 
 mirror instead of the blurred glass that topped the oak 
 dresser; and in place of the cheap white bed a single 
 one of mahogany with fine linen, and a yielding surface 
 for the tired body. Such a room would have been a 
 fitting close to the evening. 
 
 "But you'll probably go all your life without such a 
 room, young Evelyn," she said, as she made ready for 
 bed, "and it won't do you any good to get your head full 
 of such ideas, so go to sleep." 
 
 She was so tired from the long night that she was 
 quite ready to obey the command, and when next she 
 beheld her unattractive room the sun was streaming in, 
 and the watch beneath her pillow indicated twelve 
 
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 The Least Resistance 
 
 o'clock. She felt fresh and rested ready for the two 
 o'clock rehearsal. 
 
 This was just a line rehearsal held at Miss Hartwell's 
 hotel to see that every one was perfect as far as the 
 words of the play went. 
 
 When Evelyn had run through her part she was 
 excused and as she was leaving the hotel she ran into 
 Bratton Wayne, who asked her to come with him for a 
 cup of tea and a dish of gossip. She hesitated a moment, 
 then said in her quick, breathless way, "I should like to." 
 
 "Good!" He led the way to a corner table in the 
 restaurant. The head waiter held her chair, another 
 offered to relieve her of her coat, and then they departed, 
 leaving her alone with Bratton Wayne. 
 
 "Is it tea or a high ball?" he asked. 
 
 "Tea, please green tea." 
 
 "And what else, muffins or sandwiches or pastry or 
 what?" 
 
 "Lettuce sandwich," she said readily. 
 
 "That is food for a bird." 
 
 "It's enough for me. I had lunch or rather breakfast 
 at twelve, and it can't be more than four now." 
 
 "All right, lettuce sandwich, but we must have some 
 pastry afterwards." 
 
 As he gave the order to the waiter, Evelyn glanced 
 about the dining room. It was very attractive in the soft 
 light of the late afternoon. On each table a tall vase 
 held a single rose, and shaded candles cast a mellow glow 
 over the white linen and polished silver. The immaculate 
 waiters, so different from the frayed, sordid variety 
 that usually waited on her, made her wish once again that 
 her life ran through the pleasant and gracious fields of 
 affluence. 
 
 Then her eyes shifted to the man opposite her, the 
 slender figure, the well shaped face with keen hazel 
 eyes looking through highly polished glasses, the thin, 
 182
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 sensitive, slightly cynical mouth, the nervous habit of 
 biting the lower lip as his eyes scanned her face. He 
 listened attentively to whatever she had to say. She had 
 a curious feeling that he listened with not only his ears 
 but his eyes, his mouth even his hands, with the inevita- 
 ble cigarette between the fingers, seemed to listen. 
 
 She had no sense of strangeness with him, she seemed 
 to have known him a long time, and it never occurred to 
 her to try to please or entertain him. In fact she scarcely 
 spoke except in answer to a question. He asked his ques- 
 tions adroitly, and with so much tact that Evelyn never 
 suspected that he was making a study of her. 
 
 He could not have told what he expected to gain from 
 his cross-examination of her, but there was about her a 
 quality that aroused his curiosity, and made him anxious 
 to get some line on her mental processes. 
 
 The tea was over, and he had driven her home, and 
 wished her good luck on her opening performance, 
 before he realised that he had come no nearer making 
 up his mind about her than he had the night before 
 when she sat by him in the dark theatre, saying uncon- 
 sciously gracious things to him. 
 
 He sent her lilies of the valley and orchids, and she 
 who had never in her whole stage career received 
 flowers, was touched almost to tears, and then filled with 
 an intense rapture that these perfectly beautiful things 
 were all her own. A spirit of caution made her with- 
 hold the card from Ann Dwight's curious eyes. 
 
 The opening night was over, and the manager and 
 actors eagerly awaited the morning papers. Though the 
 verdict would not decide the life of the play, it would 
 foreshadow the opinion of other critics, and in that way 
 give the interested persons some idea of the power and 
 appeal of the drama. 
 
 Bratton Wayne brought the papers into his brother's 
 
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 The Least Resistance 
 
 room, and drawing a chair up by the bed read the notices 
 aloud. 
 
 The play was an effort to show the growing sense of 
 man's responsibility for his brother and was a curious 
 mixture of New Thought, Socialism and Melodrama. 
 The papers agreed that it was by no means a remarkable 
 play, but interpreted by such an able company, should 
 enjoy a long and prosperous season. Ridgly Elaine car- 
 ried off the acting honours, as usual ; Gordon Wayne was 
 next in favour, followed by guarded mention of Miss 
 Hartwell's acting and lavish praise of her gowns. 
 
 "That will please our great emotional actress," Gor- 
 don said, with a touch of maliciousness. 
 
 "Here is what this fellow says about little 'Evelyn 
 Hope' " 
 
 "Her name is Lane?" Gordon cut in, prosaically. 
 
 "Browning knew better. Curious that I can't look at 
 her without thinking of that other Evelyn who was like- 
 wise of 'spirit, fire and dew/ But hear the critic : 'Jennie 
 is played by Miss Evelyn Lane, a wistful girl with a 
 plaintive voice and appealing eyes.' That is very good 
 quite discerning for a critic." He looked up, and caught 
 his brother's eye they both laughed. 
 
 "What does the other fellow say about us ?" 
 
 Bratton picked up the next paper and turned to the 
 criticism, but before reading it he glanced down the 
 column. 
 
 "Well, what does he say about 'Beautiful Evelyn 
 Hope' ?" Gordon asked. 
 
 " 'Though Miss Evelyn Lane is lacking in tempera- 
 ment, she is most appealing/ Ye gods ! What does he 
 expect? I suppose he wanted the child to act all over 
 the place. She doesn't act at all and she is perfect in 
 the part." 
 
 "Them are strong words, Gerald Stone," Gordon said, 
 mockingly. 
 184
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 "They are none the less true. I don't suppose she can 
 act, but she can get her personality over the foot- 
 lights " 
 
 "And her personality is appealing ?" 
 
 "You know it is yourself, and you know, too, that 
 three-fourths the value of acting is getting over an 
 attractive personality " 
 
 "Ah!" His brother interrupted him with a heroic 
 gesture; "now you begin to talk about me art, and to 
 underrate it ! What do you know about the art of acting 
 you base wielder of a best-seller pen? But to return 
 to the personality of 'Evelyn Hope' when did you dis- 
 cover its appeal?" 
 
 "Oh, it's quickly discovered. You know, seriously, I'd 
 like to know that girl's history." 
 
 "Well, women aren't as a rule reticent about them- 
 selves not to a sympathetic author man, at least," Gor- 
 don said. 
 
 "I don't think she could tell it that is what is so 
 interesting. I don't believe that she is conscious of the 
 road down which she has come. I can't make up my 
 mind whether she is unawakened or crushed." 
 
 "But she is appealing " 
 
 "Yes, decidedly," Bratton admitted. 
 
 "Oh, you writers ! Now when I see a girl that attracts 
 or grips me, I being but a man, say to myself, 'well here 
 I am in again,' but not you fellows you talk about 
 their history, or their starved soul, or cramped mind or 
 something come on now, you'd heap rather hold her 
 hand than hear her history." 
 
 "I'd like to agree with you," Bratton said, "it would 
 simplify life greatly." Then to change the subject he 
 went on, "Evidently the play isn't a knock-out, at any 
 rate there isn't much in it for you. Why don't you give 
 in your notice and get out?" 
 
 "I know it isn't a great part, but if I get out, I'll 
 
 -185-
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 probably hang around New York until Christmas time at 
 least there is nothing going on now, I might as well pull 
 down this four hundred a week that Tilton is paying me." 
 
 "I'd like to see you put on The Fox'." 
 
 "Why, two months ago you didn't think much of my 
 doing it." 
 
 "That was summer time it is a better time now in 
 fact I believe you'd strike it right, and it would get you 
 away from these holy heroes and " 
 
 "And you've found the ideal girl for Maizie " Gor- 
 don said, with a laugh, "and you talking about an imper- 
 sonal interest, wanting to know her history ha ! ha ! and 
 once more ha! ha!" 
 
 "Go on with your mirth. It may add to it to know that 
 I'm going to stick along with you for a few days 
 now ha! ha!" 
 
 Evelyn read her notices without a tinge of personal 
 feeling, but they made her wonder about herself was 
 she wistful, and what was the appeal? She had given 
 so little thought to herself beyond the planning to make 
 things better. She had lived very little in her reactions, 
 and her mind was too objective for introspection and self- 
 analysis ; she had never made a mental image of herself, 
 but these words "wistful" and "appealing" impressed 
 her and she began to accent these qualities, making them 
 conscious and positive rather than negative and uncon- 
 scious, thereby enlarging their range, and heightening 
 their value. 
 
 Bratton Wayne stayed with the company a week, his 
 interest in Evelyn obvious enough to give the company 
 cause for talk and speculation. 
 
 They grew rapidly to be very good friends, and apart 
 from the fact that she was flattered by the attention of 
 so distinguished a man, she found that he not only inter- 
 ested her, but she had equal interest for him. He talked 
 to her a great deal about herself, asked her questions, 
 186-
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 listened to her every word, and this was a new experience. 
 Even Hubbard, who had loved her, had never had the 
 least curiosity about her, or been at all concerned with 
 her mental processes. She began to formulate her 
 thoughts, trying to find words to express vague ideas, 
 and was filled with a desire to overcome the old inartic- 
 ulateness. 
 
 "This is such a strange business," she said to him 
 one day, when he had left the parlour car and sought her 
 out in the day coach. She had refused his invitation to 
 join him in the parlour car, but had readily consented 
 to lunch with him in the diner. The logic of her position 
 baffled him, but he yielded to it gracefully. Over the 
 coffee he announced that he was leaving for New York 
 that night. After a moment's pause she answered, "This 
 is a strange business." 
 
 "Why so?" 
 
 "Why, you go off in a company, and meet people, and 
 some you get to know and like, and as time goes on you 
 know them so well they seem just a part of you as if 
 you had been together always, or as if there were some 
 real tie between you. Then the season closes, and you 
 are separated. For awhile they still seem real, but grad- 
 ually they grow dimmer and dimmer until they are like 
 people you dreamed about shadows." 
 
 He sat opposite her, aquiver with interest and expect- 
 ancy ; he seemed about to solve the gentle mystery of her 
 personality. He controlled his eagerness and said quietly, 
 "One of those shadows lies across your soul now, young 
 Evelyn Hope." 
 
 In response to his gentleness a wistful smile lighted 
 her face. "I was married " then she added, "not hap- 
 pily, but it doesn't hurt any more." 
 
 This was news to him ; there had seemed a quality aloof 
 and virginal about her a strong sex appeal, but one of 
 which she was apparently unconscious. But he showed 
 
 -187-
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 no surprise, and after a pause he said, "But that isn't 
 the shadow that is over you when you look out of the 
 window a long time lost in a dream that ends in a sigh 
 of resignation, and that isn't the shadow that made you 
 start the other day when a man in the rear of the car 
 spoke aloud in a voice that had a remnant of its southern 
 quality left." 
 
 She looked at him with wide, amazed eyes. "What a 
 detective! One is almost afraid to think when you are 
 about." 
 
 "But I am right there is another shadow?" 
 
 "Yes another shadow, and subject to the fate of all 
 shadows." 
 
 "Which is?" 
 
 "To grow dimmer and dimmer." 
 
 "I wonder " 
 
 "I hope so," and she turned again to the window. 
 
 They returned to the car, and just before he went 
 ahead to have his after-lunch cigarette he said, "This is 
 my last day, you are going to promise to dine with me, 
 aren't you?" 
 
 "Oh, Mr. Wayne I " 
 
 "Please." 
 
 "Well why, I should like to." 
 
 "I'll call for you at six where?" 
 
 "At the Ten Eyck," she answered, quickly. This was 
 a sudden change of plan, but she had grown ashamed to 
 have him think that she always went to cheap hotels. 
 The play seemed to have caught on very well, and perhaps 
 there was no need for such stringent economy as she 
 had been practising. 
 
 The question of something to wear that would make 
 her an attractive dinner companion was the next problem. 
 When her trunk had been delivered to her room she went 
 over her wardrobe hoping against the certainty of her 
 knowledge to the contrary that she would find something 
 188
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 that would serve. But she was doomed to disappoint- 
 ment she had no new clothes, and the old ones were of 
 last year's fashion. So with a sigh she put on a fresh 
 white silk blouse, and her old carefully brushed suit. 
 
 Whatever she thought of her clothes upstairs, Bratton 
 Wayne's manner when he met her in the lobby made her 
 forget all about their shortcomings. He gave her his 
 entire attention without one glance at the handsomely 
 dressed women about them in the dining room. 
 
 The dinner had been ordered in advance, and was the 
 best that the house afforded, and showed epicurean 
 discrimination. They were in a corner, she facing the 
 room, he opposite her. The lights were bright, the music 
 gay and lilting, the diners talking and laughing in a 
 pleasant subdued way, and in this atmosphere of luxury 
 and refined gaiety Evelyn felt herself expand mentally, 
 and her spirits rose far beyond the day's dead level. It 
 was so easy to be cheerful, confident, even vivid in such 
 an atmosphere. 
 
 They talked of many things. He told her something 
 of the new book that was three-quarters done only forty 
 thousand words to write, and his annual contribution to 
 the world's literature would be ready for the publisher. 
 He talked to her of everything but herself until the coffee 
 was served, and then as the waiter moved away to leave 
 them for a final getting together that is the charm of 
 every real dinner, he said, "Tell me something of your 
 life, Evelyn Hope?" 
 
 "What do you want to know?" 
 
 "Where were you born?" 
 
 "In Kentucky near the southern border." 
 
 "Is your mother living?" 
 
 "No, she died when I was fourteen." 
 
 "Was she pretty?" 
 
 "Yes, she was beautiful, and when she was a girl she 
 was the belle of the county." 
 
 189
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 "Was she as beautiful as you?" he asked. 
 
 "She was really beautiful, and you know I'm not, so 
 don't try to flatter me," she said with a smile. 
 
 "Why don't you think that you are ?" he asked. 
 
 "Why, I look in the glass often, and it has never yet 
 said that I was anything more than " 
 
 "It has told you that you are very lovely," he said, 
 looking at her with an impersonal, appraising eye, "of 
 course, not the burlesque chorus type, nor what the aver- 
 age theatrical manager would consider a stunner you 
 are too slight, but a poet might call you divinely slender. 
 You look younger than you are, therefore you have 
 beauty of youth and the poise of maturity you have a 
 still beauty." He was looking through half-closed eyes 
 at her, his mind playing like a searchlight over her 
 he felt the same mental exhilaration that came when his 
 pen struck a rich vein in a character study. "Your 
 eyes," he went on slowly, "the heroism of your life has 
 gone into your eyes they are deep, and sad, and alluring, 
 and steady unless," he paused, "unless the something 
 that sleeps in them is awakened. I don't know just 
 what it is that sleeps there, whether it is passion, or ambi- 
 tion, or temper, or doom." He hesitated before the last, 
 not wishing to frighten her, but the joy of rounding out 
 a sentence was not to be denied, and he comforted him- 
 self by thinking that she would not fully understand. 
 
 "I believe you are looking at me, and thinking up some 
 new lines about the heroine of your book," she said, 
 which showed that she did understand him better than 
 he imagined. 
 
 "No," he protested, "I didn't think it up at all, it just 
 came to me as I looked at you you interest me aren't 
 men generally interested in you?" 
 
 "No," she answered quickly, then added, "no, I think 
 not they are usually kind to me that is " 
 
 "When they aren't terribly unkind is that it?" He 
 190
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 smiled as she nodded. "But your mouth, Evelyn Hope 
 it's a queer little mouth, it contradicts your eyes it 
 pouts most of the time, and the pout is an invitation to 
 kiss it." 
 
 "Mr. Wayne !" she exclaimed, and her face flushed. 
 
 "Don't be alarmed, I'm not asking you to let me kiss it, 
 I am not saying that it's a personal invitation, of course," 
 and the smile died from his face. "I'll admit that I want 
 to kiss you as much as I've wanted anything for a long 
 time but I'm not a good wanter. It would be the most 
 wonderful thing in the world to be swept off your feet 
 to really feel " 
 
 "Don't you really feel, either I thought I was the only 
 person who didn't the only one who had to fight off 'the 
 creeping paralysis' that's Mary Leighton's phrase, not 
 mine. I don't care much one way or another I just 
 exist, and hope to make enough money to keep on 
 existing." 
 
 "That's only a phase with you, at least I think so. You 
 are out of your element. You were never intended for 
 the stage you are essentially a man's woman, and 
 your life will always be incomplete without the mascu- 
 line element. You have only to reach out your hand to 
 draw that element to you, and therefore you may succeed 
 in this business, as so many girls of your type have. But 
 that isn't a success worthy of you. I'd like to see you 
 out of this profession, surrounded by comfort, and affec- 
 tion, and beauty those Botticelli hands weren't made 
 for cheap gloves, and to do your own laundry work." 
 
 She looked quickly at her hands resting on the edge of 
 the table they were nice strange how he observed 
 everything. 
 
 "You can feel, you will you weren't born with a 
 microscope where your heart ought to be." He was silent 
 after this, even during the drive to the theatre. 
 
 When he held out his hand to say good-bye, she tried 
 
 191
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 to thank him for his goodness to her, but he wouldn't 
 hear. 
 
 "If we never meet again, you know I wish you the 
 best of things," he said. 
 
 "Oh, but sometimes we will meet I haven't many 
 friends, please let me keep you." 
 
 "For just as long as you want me," he answered, giving 
 her hand a final cordial pressure. 
 
 The next morning Evelyn was in the public library 
 looking up Botticelli, and studying the reproductions of 
 his pictures, with special attention to the hands of his 
 ladies. 
 
 Soon after his talk with Evelyn at the stage door, 
 Bratton Wayne left for New York. He had been away 
 several days longer than he had expected, and was already 
 behind on the novel that he had promised to have in the 
 publishers' hands by the first of November. The next 
 morning he went resolutely to work, but he found it 
 impossible to pick up the interest, and the first few days 
 were profitless. The fourth day he ground out a chapter 
 only to tear it up on second reading. 
 
 "I'm written out," he said to himself, and he cursed 
 the day that he had followed Gordon off to the opening 
 of Van Horn's uninteresting and unimportant play. It 
 had broken in on his work "women like that do get 
 under your skin," and somewhat relieved by this admis- 
 sion, he sat down and wrote her a note, asking if she 
 would dine with him when the company stopped over 
 in New York next Sunday on its way to Washington. 
 
 Evelyn stopping at the mail box in the Hartford 
 theatre was surprised to find a letter, an occasional one 
 from Mary was all that ever came to her. She read it 
 through and smiled. She remembered his words, "if we 
 never meet again." She had known all along that they 
 would meet again, but scarcely so soon, scarcely by so 
 much effort on his part. But it was kind of him, and it 
 192
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 made the Sunday in New York a thing to look forward 
 to, not dread for its loneliness. 
 
 She wished oh how fervently she wished that she 
 had some new and beautiful clothes to wear. He would 
 take her to some charming place, there would be a de- 
 licious dinner, music, flowers, beautifully dressed women, 
 and she so shabby, so out of the picture in her old suit, 
 and the white silk blouse. Then she looked down at her 
 hands, and wondered if he who seemed to observe every- 
 thing would see that the work of keeping fair and soft 
 the Botticelli hands had begun. No more cheap rough 
 gloves, no more harsh soap, no more neglect of the lovely 
 almond-shaped nails her hands, at least, should be as 
 well cared for and beautiful as though she were worth 
 a million. 
 
 193-
 
 CHAPTER SEVENTEEN 
 
 THE Sunday in New York was a great success. Brat- 
 ton Wayne called for her at three and they drove all 
 afternoon in his large open car. For the first time Evelyn 
 saw something of the beauty of the great city. They 
 circled the Park, crossed over to Riverside Drive, fol- 
 lowed it up the Hudson until night drove them home 
 with the thought of dinner. 
 
 All the world seemed driving this glorious autumn 
 day. The air was keen and fine ; the river softly bright 
 under the late afternoon sun; the trees on the Jersey 
 shore made the Palisades hills brown and red and gold. 
 
 Evelyn, sensitive to every phase of beauty, was intoxi- 
 cated by this wealth of loveliness, and her face as 
 Bratton glanced at it from time to time was radiant with 
 a new and vivid joy. The big, silent, swift-rolling car 
 that responded to the least touch of the chauffeur, the 
 sweet wind that whipped her face, the friendliness of 
 the man at her side who was giving her this great treat 
 all seemed too good to be quite real. 
 
 They dined at the old French hotel on the lower part of 
 the Avenue. The foreign atmosphere charmed her, and 
 she made him feel that he could not have taken her any- 
 where that would have given her half so much pleasure. 
 
 Her enjoyment afforded him a most agreeable sensa- 
 tion, and her way of thanking him made him want to 
 go on and on doing things for her. 
 
 All during the drive and the dinner Bratton's mind 
 
 was playing about her, ceasing only when it turned its 
 
 penetrating flash inward to study her effect on him. He 
 
 had wondered if he would find her as pleasing as in the 
 
 194
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 days of separation he had imagined her. He found her 
 even more so. He knew now how much he had missed 
 her; how much he had wanted to see her. But what 
 was the secret of her charm? She was by no means a 
 mental type, and yet she understood him, or at least she 
 adapted herself to him, and he wasn't an easy man to 
 please many women had tried, few had succeeded. And 
 yet this girl, a chance acquaintance who had made no 
 effort to fascinate him, had gotten a hold on him that 
 he couldn't shake off he wasn't sure that he wanted to 
 shake it off. 
 
 Evelyn, all unconscious of the workings of his mind, 
 was enjoying her dinner, and watching with interest the 
 other diners when he was not claiming her attention. 
 
 "May I ask you a leading question ?" he asked. 
 
 "Yes," she answered, turning to him. 
 
 "Are you going to stay in this business?" 
 
 "Am I as bad as that?" 
 
 "You aren't bad at all, but I just want to know." 
 
 "Perhaps," she said, with a shrug of her shoulders. 
 "How can I tell? I can't do anything else, and I have 
 to live." 
 
 "You don't like it?" 
 
 "I don't care anything about it, and I'm sure that isn't 
 the right state of mind. I sometimes wonder how I can 
 expect to get along when I haven't a real love for the 
 work." 
 
 "It's a bad business for a girl like you," he said, 
 soberly. 
 
 "It's hard on all of us. I have a friend she is fine 
 and strong, and she is a good actress. I think she is even 
 a great actress so direct, and her spirit is so big it makes 
 even those stupid melodrama heroines seem real and won- 
 derful =-but she can't get on, she has worked for 
 
 years " She told him the story of Mary Leighton and 
 
 her struggles, and her hopes, and ambitions, and how she 
 
 195
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 had kept faith and courage burning through all the lean 
 years. 
 
 "She thinks about acting, and talks about it, and 
 studies all the time don't you think she is bound to 
 arrive some day?" Evelyn asked. 
 
 "Yes, if she has the stuff in her she is bound to come 
 into her own, but a certain young woman with appealing 
 eyes and an inviting mouth will get there long before 
 Mary does." 
 
 "Oh," she said, with a laugh, but she remembered this 
 remark all through the week that followed, and often she 
 had to fly to it for comfort. 
 
 Evelyn's position in the company was none too pleas- 
 ant. Miss Hartwell had never forgiven her for the sup- 
 port that Gordon Wayne had given her at the rehearsal, 
 and the attention of Bratton had been another offence 
 to the star. She let slip no opportunity for showing her 
 disapproval of this girl who had incurred her displeasure. 
 When Miss Hartwell was not on the stage or in her room 
 changing her clothes, she stood in the wings and watched 
 with a cold, critical eye the work of the members of 
 the company. After the final curtain the stage manager 
 would make the rounds of the dressing rooms, and read 
 from a pad Miss Hartwell's suggestions. He always 
 stopped at Evelyn's door. 
 
 This form of refined torture made her nervous and 
 unhappy, and robbed her acting of all naturalness and 
 spontaneity. On Wednesday she went on so anxious 
 and uncertain that her voice died in her throat, she 
 fidgeted with her hands, and even stumbled in her 
 lines. 
 
 Unfortunately Tilton was on from New York and saw 
 the performance. 
 
 After the act he appeared at Evelyn's dressing room 
 door. In answer to his knock she opened it. 
 
 "For the love of heaven, what's the matter with you ?" 
 196
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 "I don't know, Mr. Tilton I'm afraid I can't go on 
 with the part. They have corrected me so many times 
 that I've lost all idea of it." 
 
 "Who the h , why you were all right in Albany, why 
 didn't you stay that way ?" 
 
 "Every night I've been told that I wasn't doing it 
 right." 
 
 "Well, forget it and go back to the old way that's 
 a good girl." He gave her a pat on the shoulder and 
 turned to descend the stairs. 
 
 Miss Hartwell was standing in one of the wings ready 
 to make her entrance. Her position commanded a view 
 of the tiers of dressing rooms and she saw the friendly 
 pat on the shoulder. Her scene over, she sent for her 
 husband and demanded Evelyn's dismissal from the 
 company. She refused positively to go on unless her 
 wishes were complied with immediately. 
 
 In this scene she overplayed her part. Tilton was 
 already out of patience. He had put a great deal of 
 money into the play, they were doing no business, the 
 critics were not encouraging, and the experts he had 
 had down to look it over had declared against it. It was 
 an expensive company, and he stood to lose a small for- 
 tune, and with Winnie proving unreasonable and ungrate- 
 ful he was not inclined to go on. 
 
 "All right, I'll give her her notice," he said meaningly, 
 and left the dressing room. 
 
 The next morning he returned to New York, leaving 
 instructions with his manager to post the notice closing 
 the company one week from Saturday night in Balti- 
 more. 
 
 This was scarcely a surprise to the actors; they had 
 been expecting it for some time, and the week in Wash- 
 ington showed that the play could not live. The criticisms 
 were unfavourable, and night after night the business 
 
 197
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 grew lighter. Miss Hartwell gave out a report that they 
 were closing in order to reorganise the company. 
 
 As Evelyn read the closing notice she was conscious 
 of conflicting emotions. It would be a relief to be away 
 from her present unhappy position, but it meant New 
 York without work, and perhaps a long heart-breaking 
 time before she could get it. 
 
 She had a letter from Bratton Wayne saying that she 
 was not to mind ; that she would get a much better posi- 
 tion, and that he would tell everybody he knew what a 
 fine little actress she was. Incidentally he claimed her 
 for a ride and dinner the first day she was in town. 
 
 "I should have run down to Baltimore, but neither you 
 nor Gordon suggested my coming on for Thanksgiving 
 dinner, so I accepted a stupid invitation here, and shall be 
 duly miserable and hope you both will suffer for your 
 lack of thought of me." This was the postscript to the 
 letter. 
 
 It amused her and she took it down to Gordon Wayne's 
 dressing room to read to him. He met it with the sugges- 
 tion that she dine with him on Thanksgiving, and at the 
 table they would write out a night letter to the absent one. 
 
 "I should love to do that," she said. 
 
 "Good, we'll write him a message that'll make him wild 
 with jealousy!" Gordon answered. 
 
 "Oh, scarcely that but let's do it, anyway," she said, 
 with a smile. 
 
 That night in her hotel room she re-read his letter. 
 It was good to be remembered, and pleasant to think that 
 instead of the old lonely New York there would be 
 some one who thought of her, and waited for her. She 
 wondered why he liked her? How was it possible that 
 a man who must know so many charming women should 
 so signally prefer her? 
 
 At first it had seemed most remarkable, but Bratton's 
 repeated reference to her "appeal," that mysterious 
 198
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 "quality" that he recognised but couldn't explain, was 
 beginning to bear fruit in her mind. She was slowly 
 re-forming her opinion of herself. Now her thoughts 
 shot back to other people, and she realised that they had 
 sensed a "something" about her, a bit out of the ordinary. 
 Harmon, in the old days when she was so crushed, had 
 said that there was a quality he had used the same 
 word "like the frail, big-eyed stars that twinkled in the 
 theatrical firmament." 
 
 Other things said by people to which she had given 
 little thought at the time came back to strengthen this 
 new appreciation of herself. Hubbard but as her 
 thoughts swung around to him, she got up and moved 
 about the room to shake them off. 
 
 The old feeling of loss, the ache for the kind, strong 
 arms about her, the tenderness of his love, made remem- 
 bering a pain not to be endured. There were times when 
 in the midst of other thoughts and activities, a memory 
 of him, of something sweet and close between them would 
 surge up in her mind, making her heart flutter, her brain 
 spin, and, passing, leave her cold and sick for hours. 
 
 All the other suffering of her life had grown dim, 
 and seemed like a dream, but the least touching on the 
 western tour brought back all the torment of the days 
 that preceded her illness. And since she could not remem- 
 ber without suffering, she fought with all the strength 
 of her practical nature to put every thought of Hubbard 
 out of her life. 
 
 The interest and attention of Bratton Wayne helped 
 her to carry out this resolution. He touched only the 
 surface of her consciousness, but she enjoyed him greatly. 
 And on her return he saw that she had every chance 
 to enjoy his companionship. 
 
 Three times a week they dined together. Evelyn soon 
 grew to know well the restaurants of the city the 
 splendour of the Broadway Lobster Palaces ; the impres- 
 
 199
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 sive elegance of Fifth Avenue ; the cafes favoured by 
 the artistic and literary world, where the talk and smoke 
 were thick enough to cut. In these latter places Evelyn 
 felt more at home, for here there was no formality of 
 dress, and she did not feel uncomfortable in her simple 
 clothes, but had her wardrobe been to her liking she would 
 have much preferred the Fifth Avenue district. The 
 spacious dining rooms, the soft lights, the silent waiters, 
 and the well modulated voices of the beautifully dressed 
 women, pleased her far more than the garish splendour 
 of Broadway, and the Bohemianism of the down-town 
 places. 
 
 The most immediate effect of this constant dining out 
 was the cultivation of her taste to the point where the 
 places patronised when she was alone grew well nigh 
 intolerable. 
 
 Bratton placed his car at her disposal, but she never 
 took advantage of it except when he made a special point 
 of it. They went together for long rides; they visited 
 the art gallery; they attended the theatre and Evelyn 
 met a number of well known men and women. 
 
 But through all of this pleasure and excitement was 
 the realisation that in a very short time her bank account 
 would be exhausted unless she got work soon, and at 
 present there was no prospect of an engagement. 
 
 Evelyn was no longer an industrious seeker. It was 
 growing daily more difficult to haunt the managers' 
 offices and the agencies, and several times instead of wait- 
 ing about all afternoon on a mere chance of seeing a 
 manager she went off with Bratton to an afternoon con- 
 cert or a drive. 
 
 After an elaborate dinner, the theatre, and supper 
 afterwards it was not easy to crawl out of bed the next 
 morning to make the rounds. She would persuade her- 
 self that she could accomplish as much in the afternoon. 
 This did not happen often, and each time it did she 
 200
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 reproached herself for her indolence, and vowed she 
 would not yield to it again. 
 
 At times it was almost unbelievable that she had so 
 little money; she had somehow such a consciousness 
 of possessing a great deal this was only the reflex of 
 Bratton Wayne's prosperity, but she failed to under- 
 stand it. 
 
 The year wore on to its close, and her money dwindled 
 with such rapidity that the old terror of the future came 
 back, blotting out all of the new-found happiness. 
 
 Of course the money would have lasted longer, but it 
 had been necessary to spend some of it for clothes since 
 she could not go about with Bratton entirely shabby. She 
 had eased her conscience by saying that she would be 
 more apt to get a good engagement if she were well 
 dressed. But the new clothes did not seem to better her 
 chances at all, though they did make her feel a great 
 deal more comfortable when she went out with Bratton 
 Wayne. 
 
 A natural pride kept her from speaking of her anxie- 
 ties to him, but there was at times a worried, harassed 
 look in her eyes that made him suspect the difficulties 
 which surrounded her. He regretted genuinely any 
 trouble that came to her. He should have liked to make 
 her some offer of help, but she was such a reticent, proud 
 little person he was afraid that she would resent it. He 
 really was not anxious that she secure an engagement, for 
 that would take her away, and she had grown to be very 
 important to his happiness. 
 
 In analysing his own emotions, he admitted that in a 
 way he was in love with her. He cared for her as much 
 as he was capable of caring for any one, at least any 
 woman; his affection for his brother was a very real 
 thing, but women somehow had always failed to grip 
 him hard. But Evelyn suited him, there was no denying 
 that; and, what was more remarkable, she interested 
 
 2OI
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 him. He liked to think that he was interested in her 
 as a "type." 
 
 Up to this time his novels had been things of plot and 
 action, and, like most of his craft, he yearned to venture 
 into the fields of the psychology of character. In Evelyn 
 he felt that he had struck a character rich in possibilities. 
 If he could get her "flavour" into a book it ought to be 
 a new note in American literature ; something away from 
 the conventional heroine ; away from belligerent feminism. 
 It would be and as the book shaped itself and the thrill 
 of creation crept over him, he realised how necessary 
 she was to its achievement. 
 
 How could he hold her ? Immediately a plan presented 
 itself. He tried to put it by, but met with small success. 
 It came again and again, and soon he knew that it was 
 only a question of time before he laid it before her. 
 
 The weeks wore on. Christmas passed, the New Year 
 dawned, and January dragged its weary length across 
 Evelyn's life. February found her without work, and 
 between her and want the sum of five dollars. 
 
 She thought of all the money that Bratton Wayne 
 spent on her the dinner the night before why she 
 could have lived a week on its cost. She remembered 
 with shame her feeling as she saw the generous tip he 
 gave the waiter. He had so much, life was so easy 
 and comfortable for him, and for her nothing but 
 anxiety, and a prospect too dreadful to dwell on. 
 
 With the urge of the present situation, she attacked the 
 agencies and managers vigorously, but her morning was 
 profitless, and she returned home depressed and weary. 
 
 In the afternoon she went over to Jersey City to inter- 
 view a moving picture man, but he wanted a girl who 
 could ride and swim, and wasn't afraid of firearms. She 
 asked desperately if he couldn't give her something to do, 
 and he answered that if she wanted to come over next 
 week she could "supe" in a big picture he was going 
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 to do, and he would give her two dollars and a half a day 
 and her lunch. She thanked him and hurried home. 
 
 Her dinner that night consisted of crackers and the 
 last of a basket of fruit Bratton had sent her. After- 
 wards she bundled up and walked swiftly through the 
 wind-swept streets to bring on an exhaustion that would 
 induce sleep. 
 
 Her mind reverted to the doctrine of cheer and hope 
 that Dr. Holt had given her. She assured herself over 
 and over that something would turn up something had 
 to happen. But fear had clutched her and was not to 
 be shaken off. Then suddenly she paused for a second, 
 bent her head, and hurried on like a frightened animal. 
 She had passed within two feet of Bob. 
 
 Once in her room she took from the shelf of the 
 improvised closet a bottle of wine that had come in 
 Bratton's New Year's fruit basket. She had never opened 
 it, but now she felt the need of a stimulant. She was 
 cold and sick and hysterical. 
 
 The rich old wine warmed her, sent the blood coursing 
 through her veins, lifted the weight from her spirit, con- 
 soled and cheered her. 
 
 Gradually the emotional storm subsided, and one 
 thought rose triumphant over the others. She was free 
 of Bob and all he stood for ; free to fight her own fight ; 
 to win or lose as she must, but not hampered and 
 crushed by a hostile personality. 
 
 In the fleeting glimpse she had caught the inevitable 
 brown derby as usual on the back of his head, and she 
 was immediately conscious that he had been drinking 
 of all this she was free! She forgot her desperate 
 condition, and a deep sleep of gratefulness descended 
 on her. 
 
 But the next morning the problem of living was before 
 her, and again she went forth to the managers and agents. 
 There was a new anxiety in her heart she must not 
 
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 meet Bob. Her eyes swept the crowds on the streets, 
 and she entered no office until she made sure that he 
 was not to be seen. 
 
 From ten in the morning until five in the afternoon 
 Evelyn was active in her search for work. There was 
 a long wait to see a man who wanted a girl for a Cali- 
 fornia stock company; there were two interviews with 
 vaudeville people one with an untried act, the other 
 thought her too short for his requirements. 
 
 In and out of the buildings along Broadway and its 
 intersecting streets she hurried, driven by the bayonet of 
 necessity. At noon she had a bowl of soup, and by five 
 she was too hungry and tired for further effort. 
 
 With great exertion she climbed the stairs, and once in 
 her room dropped on the bed, too worn physically to 
 resist the terror that was gnawing her soul. 
 
 What would become of her? She couldn't pay next 
 week's rent. There would soon be no money for food, 
 and no prospect of work there was even no one from 
 whom she could borrow. Bratton Wayne would lend her 
 money, but she could never ask him, and there was no 
 one else. 
 
 "Why, why is it always so hard for me I can't get 
 on I can't." 
 
 Through her window she could see the lights of the 
 big hotel across the way. It was the dinner hour and 
 the crowds were gathering. There was music, well- 
 dressed people, warmth, and gaiety. 
 
 Her room was dark, and it was cold. The poor fur- 
 nace in the basement was unable to send up heat to the 
 top of the house. Evelyn shivered in her coat, but she 
 made no effort to draw the couch cover over her a 
 little more suffering didn't matter. 
 
 She heard her name called from downstairs, and go- 
 ing to the door, the Irish maid called up that she was 
 wanted on the 'phone. 
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 Evelyn hurried down, and was glad to hear the friendly 
 voice of Bratton. He had tried three times to get her 
 would she be good enough to dine with him? He had 
 worked so hard all day that it would be a charity for 
 her to come. She would be glad to come he would 
 call for her in half an hour. She rushed upstairs reso- 
 lutely, putting by her woes, and dressed for dinner. 
 
 In her effort to throw off her depression she was 
 gayer than he had ever known her. For the first time 
 she joined him in a cocktail, and the unusual stimulant 
 flew to her head, making her vivacious and commu- 
 nicative. 
 
 "Must have gotten a good engagement to-day ?" he said 
 over the oysters. 
 
 "Good engagement I shall never work again." 
 
 "No?" 
 
 "No one will have me Miss Hartwell put the curse 
 on me very soon I shall be playing the park benches." 
 Her eyes were reckless. "I've tried, but if Fate means 
 me to do that why, all right!" 
 
 "You don't mean " he began. 
 
 "Nothing," she cut in, "and let's not spoil this dinner 
 with talking about 'yobs' I have all day to think of 
 that," she added with a sudden dropping of her high 
 spirits. 
 
 For some time there was silence between them, and 
 when the talk was resumed it was of other matters, 
 but all through the dinner the old plan was shaping 
 itself in Bratton's mind, and striving to find words for 
 expression. 
 
 "Evelyn Hope," he said at last, leaning over the table 
 towards her, "I don't flatter myself that you care the 
 least about me, but I'd try to make you happy, if you'd 
 let me." 
 
 There was surprise in the eyes that she raised to him. 
 
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 The Least Resistance 
 
 Any possibility of his caring seriously had never oc- 
 curred to her. 
 
 "You are feeling sorry for me, and I don't want that," 
 she said. 
 
 "No, that isn't it," he answered. "From the very first 
 you have attracted me remember at the dress rehearsal 
 when you sat out front with me there was something 
 fragrant and wistful about you that was irresistible. I 
 want to go abroad for a year to work on a novel with 
 a French background. I don't want to go without you 
 won't you come along? It would be wonderful for 
 me, and I'd try to make it so for you." 
 
 She wasn't making it easy for him looking at him 
 with her large, sad, questioning eyes. It was hard to 
 go on he had a horror of her thinking him a vulgar 
 intriguer. His feeling for her was the best he could 
 give ; his offer the only one he could make. 
 
 "I'd ask you to marry me," he went on, "but Mrs. 
 Wayne has never had the tact to divorce me, though we 
 
 have been separated for three years so so " There 
 
 was still no answer from her, and he went on, striving 
 to make his attitude clear. "You know that I have 
 the greatest respect and regard for you, Evelyn, and I 
 do want you out of this business. You aren't the least 
 suited to it, and you can't win out in it alone. There 
 will have to be some man I'd hate that, and so would 
 you. You would never be anything but sweet and ex- 
 quisite to me, and of course there would be a financial 
 settlement that would make you absolutely free when- 
 ever you wanted to be. I don't ask much just a little 
 of your affection. I'll take you away for all time from 
 these nagging, sickening troubles that wear you out. 
 You were born for beauty, and affluence, and the soft, 
 sweet-scented places of life." 
 
 Her elbow was on the table, her chin resting in the 
 palm of her hand. Not for one second had her eyes 
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 The Least Resistance 
 
 shifted from his face and the eyes, at first sad and 
 questioning, had grown bright and tense in expression. 
 But he couldn't read the expression, and as he talked 
 it was without any knowledge of the effect he was pro- 
 ducing. One moment he expected her to burst out in 
 indignation at the insult he offered, again he had a fleet- 
 ing thought that she would say in her quick, breathless 
 way: "I'll come." 
 
 He knew that her mind was acting, that she was fol- 
 lowing every word, but he could not tell that behind 
 that enigmatic face a busy brain was asking: "Why 
 not why not ?" 
 
 There was no one to care, and, if they did, what of 
 it? There was no other helping hand in the world. She 
 had tried, oh, so hard ! and she knew that no matter how 
 she struggled it would always be so that for each step 
 forward there would be the long drop back. She had 
 no real ambition to act, it was just a way to earn a 
 living a most uncertain, heart-breaking way. 
 
 He offered her certainty, ease, rest, and beauty. She 
 liked him, she could learn from him. Even if he grew 
 tired of her, she would return to the struggle better 
 fortified. She could study, make herself worth while 
 develop that charm which he talked of so often. 
 
 Against all of this was an inherent dislike for the 
 illicit, and the training of her youth in conventional 
 morality. Then he didn't really love her, at least not 
 ardently. She did not know that for this reason she 
 stood a better chance with him, but it would have been 
 easier for him had he been able to sweep her along 
 with eloquence and ardour. 
 
 Had he reminded her that her life was her own, that 
 she had a right to make it good a right to comfort 
 and joy; reminded her that she had been crushed in 
 her efforts to follow the conventions take now the good 
 the gods offer take a chance! he might thereby have 
 
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 The Least Resistance 
 
 touched the latent recklessness in her; have aroused 
 her courage. 
 
 But it was a new and baffling situation. Convention 
 said : "You have been insulted resent it !" Instinct, the 
 female instinct for protection, said : "It is your chance 
 why not take it?" 
 
 "You aren't cross with me?" he asked when she did 
 not answer. 
 
 "No," she said, "but I couldn't 
 
 "Why not ; because you think it wicked ?" Then, with- 
 out waiting for her reply, he went on : "Don't you know 
 doesn't something tell you that only the spirit which 
 animates can make such a relation wicked? I'm no de- 
 signing man who wants to steal your youth and inno- 
 cence. I want you, but I want, too, your happiness. 
 I want to see you sheltered, and protected." 
 
 "I know, but " 
 
 "Don't decide now think it over. I have to run down 
 to Philadelphia to-morrow but I'll be home Wednesday. 
 Suppose you dine with me Wednesday evening and tell 
 me then." 
 
 Her eyes, puzzled and tense, were still on his face as 
 her lips framed "All right." 
 
 "Now," he said in a different tone, "what shall it be, 
 cafe parfait or the inevitable French pastry?" 
 
 "Neither just coffee," she answered. 
 
 They talked of inconsequential things until he said 
 good night at the door of the theatrical rooming-house. 
 He held her hand a moment longer than usual. "Eve- 
 lyn, please try to make it 'Yes/ " he said. 
 
 And at three o'clock that night she made her decision. 
 Made it after hours of thought and speculation ; after a 
 resume of the life behind her, and the future ahead; 
 after the memory of Bob, and the poverty and sordid- 
 ness of their union, the struggle since, the poverty again 
 and uncertainty the consciousness that time was flying, 
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 The Least Resistance 
 
 that she would wither early, that ill-health and anxiety 
 would soon wear out her fragile constitution, and that 
 for her there would be an end like young Baker's. 
 
 Then came a vision of France, of Paris the pleasant 
 surroundings, the beautiful clothes, all the things that 
 money could provide, but above everything the rest, 
 the peace from the appalling conditions of her present 
 life. 
 
 These two lines of thought opposed each other through 
 the still watches of the night, and as the clock in the 
 room below struck its ghostly three, Evelyn said to 
 the waiting darkness : "I'll go with him." A few minutes 
 later she was asleep.
 
 CHAPTER EIGHTEEN 
 
 AFTER reaching her decision, Evelyn slept well, and 
 it was ten o'clock the next morning before she 
 opened her eyes. She lay still, hating to leave the warmth 
 of her bed for the certain cold of her room, but at last 
 with an effort she rose and, throwing open the old- 
 fashioned inside shutters, saw the world below white with 
 snow and the air filled with flying flakes. 
 
 She shivered in her thin gown and crept back into 
 bed. She had an appointment at an agent's for eleven 
 o'clock, but that was a thing of the past. Never again 
 would she struggle through wind and weather, wait in 
 cold, cheerless offices to see a man who in his turn 
 would dismiss her with: "You're not the type." Right 
 or wrong, for good or evil, she was free of the old 
 life. 
 
 In the midst of her elation there was a knock at the 
 door, and the voice of Maggie, the Irish maid, saying: 
 "I brought up a letter for ye." 
 
 A letter an occasional one from Mary, or a card from 
 an agency nothing else ever came. For a moment there 
 was a clutching fear suppose it was some word that 
 would hurl her back into the stress of the life she had 
 broken with last night ! 
 
 She sprang up and seized the letter which Maggie 
 had thrust under the door. It had been sent to a the- 
 atrical paper, and forwarded to her. The handwriting 
 was unfamiliar, but the postmark made her heart leap. 
 She tore it open, and looked first at the signature it 
 was from Hubbard! 
 
 It was a note telling her that his grandmother was 
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 The Least Resistance 
 
 dead, and the plantation his. He had given up the stage 
 for all time and settled down to plant cotton. "I am here 
 if you ever need me. All I am and all I have is at your 
 disposal. God bless you and keep you safe." 
 
 Evelyn stood still in the middle of the room with the 
 letter in her hand. She forgot that there was no heat 
 coming up through the register, that she was thinly 
 clad, and shivering with cold. She read the letter again, 
 and began to dress. 
 
 At eleven o'clock she was at the agency to keep her 
 appointment. For once she was "the type," and at five 
 o'clock that afternoon she was aboard the train for 
 Chicago. She was to play a maid, and understudy the 
 leading woman in "The Hope Deferred" company. She 
 was to receive forty dollars a week for her services. It 
 was a smaller salary than the one Tilton had paid her, 
 but it was an established play, and booked, so they told 
 her, to the first of July. 
 
 The note of farewell to Bratton Wayne was hard 
 to write. She hoped he would understand, and she 
 thanked him for his goodness to her. "Perhaps you will 
 never know what your friendship has meant to me this 
 winter I shall remember you always so gratefully." 
 
 She arrived in Chicago and went to a hotel on the 
 North Side that Ann Dwight had once recommended. 
 After dinner she reported at the theatre, was given the 
 maid's part, told to come for rehearsal in the morning 
 at eleven, and then sent out front to see the play. 
 
 During the days that followed, Evelyn was lonely, 
 and depressed, and her only comfort was the letter in 
 her hand-bag. She read it again and again, and each 
 time it gave her new hope and courage. She spent 
 much time wondering if the coming of Hubbard's let- 
 ter at the time it did was a mere accident or the direct 
 working of Providence to save her from a life of sin. 
 She liked to think that her mother, looking down from 
 
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 The Least Resistance 
 
 spirit land, had shaped events to their present happy 
 conclusion. 
 
 But as the days went on she had to admit that, though 
 she was at work, and safe, she was not happy. Now it 
 took more than a mere living to content her. The din- 
 ners alone, the days alone, the being of no interest or 
 importance to any one, filled her with new but real un- 
 happiness. 
 
 The part of the maid ran only through one act, then 
 Evelyn was free to leave the theatre, provided she was 
 in telephone reach in the event of an accident to the 
 leading woman. By nine-thirty she was in her room 
 at the hotel, with a long evening to kill in some 
 fashion. 
 
 The company that Evelyn had come on to join was 
 heavily billed as "The Triumvirate of Stars in Hope 
 Deferred." It was a small organisation, headed by three 
 stars who had long since ceased to have drawing power 
 when exploited alone, but combined made an attraction 
 that drew packed and enthusiastic houses. 
 
 From Chicago they moved to St. Louis, and this was 
 followed by a week of one-night stands that carried them 
 through Arkansas into Texas. 
 
 There were only three women in the organisation 
 Clara Melton, the third member of the Triumvirate, Bar- 
 bara Hunter, and Evelyn. Miss Melton, who had been 
 in her time one of the best-known women on the Amer- 
 ican stage, played the mother of the two male stars. 
 Miss Hunter, of the new naturalistic school, was the 
 girl about whom the play revolved. Between the two 
 women there was a long-standing quarrel which afforded 
 the men of the company never-ending amusement. 
 
 Seven men completed the cast, all of them well-known 
 actors from the two stars down to the man who played 
 a "bit" in the last act. 
 
 Every one, with the exception of Evelyn, was drawing 
 
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 The Least Resistance 
 
 a large salary, and they lived in all the comfort and lux- 
 ury that the "road" could offer. 
 
 Evelyn was caught up in this expensive way of living, 
 and when at the end of each week the sleeper- and 
 parlour-car fares were deducted from her salary, there 
 was a considerable decrease in her pay envelope. And 
 there were expensive hotels, expensive food that Bratton 
 had trained her to demand expensive clothes that each 
 day seemed more of an absolute necessity. 
 
 A month passed, and she had not saved a cent. This 
 frightened and discouraged her. She began to deny 
 herself food in a frantic effort to save. Hotels she 
 could not economise on, though she always had the cheap- 
 est room in the house; but the cheapest rooms in the 
 best hotels were expensive, and so the cut had to be 
 made in food, since she did not want the company to 
 know that she was poor. 
 
 The travelling was hard, and Evelyn grew thin and 
 pale under the restrictions of her daily life. She with- 
 drew more and more from the people of the company. 
 Days would pass without a word to any one, and a 
 hopelessness settled over her. At times the old days 
 with Bob seemed better than this; the love and care of 
 Hubbard she dared not dwell on, and so her mind was 
 oftenest filled With memories of the happy times she had 
 spent with Bratton. 
 
 He had never written her a line, and she wondered 
 how he felt towards her. She didn't miss him person- 
 ally, but she regretted the pleasant things that he stood 
 for, and as time went on she felt that she had made 
 a real sacrifice in fleeing the happiness he held out to her. 
 
 Then suddenly she was aware that her days need not 
 be so cheerless, so companionless. 
 
 She remembered Bratton Wayne's assertion that she 
 had an appeal that only the unusual man would feel 
 "You are caviar to the general," he had said with a laugh. 
 
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 The Least Resistance 
 
 At the time she had answered : "You are being literary 
 at my expense." But in thinking it over she had to 
 admit that the men who liked her cared little for women 
 in general. But why ? She knew that she was not beau- 
 tiful; her clothes were without distinction, save as they 
 partook of her "quality"; she was not vivacious, nor 
 witty. But there was something she felt it knew that 
 she had a power, a power that acted almost without any 
 consciousness on her part. Looking back, she couldn't 
 remember that she had ever made an effort to attract 
 a man what if she did? 
 
 She looked up from her speculations, to see Hale John- 
 ston's eyes fastened on her. She smiled at him across 
 the parlour car. Soon he came and stood by her. 
 
 "Won't you come and have lunch with me ?" he asked. 
 "They've just put on a diner." 
 
 She hesitated a moment was it worth while? then, 
 "I'd like to very much," she answered. 
 
 This was all the encouragement that he needed. 
 Thereafter Evelyn could not complain of loneliness or 
 boredom. Hale was a delightful companion, and a dili- 
 gent pursuer of the phantom Pleasure. 
 
 Had Bratton Wayne been on hand he would have 
 observed that Evelyn "was running true to form." Hale 
 Johnston was by far the most unusual man in the com- 
 pany, not only in appearance, but personality. His act- 
 ing was obscured by the more sensational parts of the 
 stars, but so unique was he in method and stage presence 
 that it would have been easier to have replaced any mem- 
 ber of the company than to have found a substitute for 
 him. 
 
 He was tall and slight ; a beautifully shaped head rising 
 above slender shoulders; a pair of hazel eyes whose 
 general expression was one of boredom or cynical un- 
 derstanding, breaking sometimes into a fierce resentful- 
 ness as a sense of his own limitations cut through, 
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 The Least Resistance 
 
 his carefully cultivated indifference. Always perfectly 
 groomed, and giving every sign of aristocratic ancestry 
 an ancestry so careful of its alliances that it thrust Hale 
 into the world a product of inbreeding, that robbed him 
 of virility, and normality, and the will to direct the many 
 gifts which nature had lavished on him. 
 
 He played the piano remarkably well, having studied 
 with the best masters of his own Boston, and abroad; 
 he wrote with ease, light, brilliant, satirical verse ; he had 
 a real gift for colour and arrangement, and a genius for 
 acting. With these gifts he had inherited an unmorality, 
 that in the moments when his soul lifted itself above his 
 inherent weakness, sickened and frightened him. He 
 escaped these moments of self-disgust by an interest in 
 a new personality or a fresh dip into reckless dissipation. 
 
 He had been with the play ever since its opening, and 
 had long since exhausted the possibilities of his co- 
 workers. The stolidity of the older male star, the ego- 
 tism of the younger, the mental eccentricity of Clara 
 Melton, the superficial intellectualism of Miss Hunter, 
 gave him a great deal of amusement when he wasn't 
 filled with a fierce intolerance for the lot of them. 
 
 Then Evelyn came, and he was pleased with her sim- 
 plicity, and aloofness from the company. He hated so 
 his own need of companionship that he felt an imme- 
 diate respect for any one who was independent of other 
 people. 
 
 Then the gentle and generous stratum that lay deep 
 in his nature was touched by the sadness of her eyes 
 and the patient, whimsical smile that occasionally played 
 over her face. 
 
 But strongest of all was her appeal to his aesthetic 
 sense. She had a trick of suddenly lifting her body, 
 when the memory that she must stand well came, that 
 caused a long, soft line to drop straight from the chin 
 to the feet he found himself watching, hoping to catch 
 
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 The Least Resistance 
 
 her in the act. Then her pallor, and the fine lustrous 
 hair that grew so beautifully about her forehead; the 
 sad, questioning eyes ; the mouth with its half pout the 
 contradiction that Bratton had observed, he too noticed. 
 And her hands, white, soft, exquisitely modelled, never 
 failed to give him intense artistic satisfaction. 
 
 So Evelyn with her half beauty, her muted personality, 
 attracted him, and her remarkable adaptability enabled 
 her to fill with ease the difficult role of his daily com- 
 panion. At times he was a delightful companion, again 
 so moody and morose that he would have been unbear- 
 able to a high-strung nature. But Evelyn smiled at him 
 and offered to leave him alone with his "black devil." 
 But he didn't want to be left alone; he wanted her with 
 him silent, sympathetic, understanding. 
 
 Hale's life was a series of financial ups and downs. 
 His adoption of the stage had estranged his wealthy fam- 
 ily, and, though his salary was large, it was scarcely 
 enough for his lavish tastes and reckless expenditures. 
 
 Nothing gave him so much pleasure as to spend a 
 lot of money to secure a few hours of enjoyment. His 
 friendship with Evelyn gave a fresh impetus to his 
 daily struggle to kill the tedium of the road. 
 
 There was always something afoot a drive, a concert 
 when the town afforded it; a visit to some place of in- 
 terest, and always hours spent in the best available 
 restaurant. 
 
 Here through dull afternoons they sat, Evelyn drink- 
 ing tea and munching toast, Hale dividing his favour 
 between Scotch Whiskey and Frapped Absinthe. Often 
 the afternoon waned and dinner-time came. Then there 
 was hurrying of waiters a cocktail urged on Evelyn to 
 stimulate her appetite; oysters or whatever attractive 
 hors d'ceuvre the menu offered. 
 
 "It seems to me we are always eating," she said to 
 him on one occasion when tea shaded into dinner. 
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 The Least Resistance 
 
 "Well, what else can we do on these beastly one-night 
 stands?" he asked. "Nothing to see but mud, nowhere 
 to go but to the moving pictures ! I can't sit around 
 a hotel lobby and tell the drummers what a great actor 
 I am, like Jetsam, or sleep my life away, like old Flot- 
 sam." These were his names for the two male stars. 
 "Ye gods !" he went on, "the moment old Flotsam gets 
 into a room he flops on the bed." 
 
 "Just see how well preserved he is," Evelyn said. 
 
 "Yes, and his brain is as well preserved as his 
 body " 
 
 "Well, he is a very good actor, at any rate." 
 
 "Meaning that I am not " he cut in. 
 
 "I didn't say that," Evelyn said with a laugh. 
 
 "I know, but you implied it. I don't care. I can 
 act all right. Any fool can act if he gets a part that 
 suits him. Here, waiter, bring me another cocktail. 
 Have one?" he asked, turning to her. 
 
 "No, one is enough for me." 
 
 "Don't be absurd you need another. Make it two 
 two Manhattans with a dash of absinthe." 
 
 He swept her along, his nervous, wilful nature over- 
 riding hers. He was selfish, and at times inconsiderate, 
 but when it dawned on him that he had failed her 
 he tried to make it up with acts of thoughtfulness that 
 were abject and lavish. 
 
 Sometimes she faintly resented his dominance of her, 
 but for the most part she found it easy to fall in with 
 his ways. And the material comfort that he surrounded 
 her with, the luxuries she could not afford that he 
 supplied, had a grip on her, a grip that grew as, through 
 self-indulgence, she became less able to endure hard- 
 ships. 
 
 He saw that there was a cab to and from the trains ; 
 that she was safely home from the theatre at night; 
 that she never missed a meal, and it was always the
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 best that was to be had. If she tried to economise on 
 hotels he abused her soundly for not taking better care 
 of herself. 
 
 "But I can't afford expensive places," she would pro- 
 test. "I have to save money this season isn't going to 
 last forever." 
 
 "Why, a girl like you can always get work they'd be 
 glad to have you. Besides, if you don't take care of 
 yourself, you'll lose your youth and charm. Don't think 
 about money and it will come to you." 
 
 "That is all very well for you who have always had 
 it, but I know all about poverty." 
 
 "Well, did you get on any better when you skimped 
 and starved your mind and body?" he asked. 
 
 "No, I can't say that I did, but " 
 
 This talk and other that followed weakened her sense 
 of the necessity of providing for the future. She imbibed 
 his philosophy of "Demand and you get" or, at any rate, 
 play the game and take your chance. 
 
 She had tried so hard tried thrift, and self-sacrifice, 
 and right living, and it had been so profitless. Was there 
 another way, a way that would bring success and secur- 
 ity? She was so tired of the struggle, so unequal to it. 
 She never longed for great artistic success, but she did 
 want a secure place, a pleasant way of life, and some one 
 to lean on. She was thoroughly aware that she needed 
 some one to lean on Bratton had told her that she was 
 essentially a "man's woman." 
 
 There were times when Evelyn admitted to herself 
 that her association with Hale Johnston was not a good 
 thing for her that she was taking on too strongly 
 his recklessness, his extravagance of thought and deed. 
 His slogan, "Take your chance," was slowly, but surely, 
 becoming her own. 
 
 Evelyn had given up Bratton Wayne under the influ- 
 ence of Hubbard's letter, and this piece of heroism had
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 made her feel that, since she had remained faithful to 
 the code, it was permissible to indulge herself along 
 other lines. So long as Hale Johnston demanded noth- 
 ing in return for his overwhelming attention, so long as 
 he required that she be but a responsive companion, her 
 conscience did not reproach her, nor did the fact that 
 their friendship gave the company ample food for gos- 
 sip trouble her. 
 
 In fact, she and Hale derived much amusement from 
 the attitude of Miss Hunter. Miss Hunter, whose intel- 
 lectual flights had failed to interest Hale, suddenly re- 
 membered that such intimacies could mean only one 
 thing when one knew the frailty of human nature. In 
 the beginning she had treated Evelyn with high, kindly 
 patronage, which was withdrawn in favour of cold dis- 
 approval as Evelyn allowed herself to became entangled 
 with that "decadent creature." 
 
 The pointed displeasure of Miss Hunter, and the in- 
 difference of the other members of the company, threw 
 her more entirely on the companionship of Hale. And 
 as time went on she realised that he was not only a 
 demoralising but a profoundly dangerous influence for 
 her, and she wished that she had the strength to draw 
 away from him ; she wished it especially after his confes- 
 sion that conventional morals and precepts had never 
 meant anything to him ; even things which his mind con- 
 demned excited in him no emotional or moral repulsion. 
 
 "Unmoral, unmoral," he would say when drinking 
 wiped out his natural aversion to self-analysis. "Hurled 
 into the world without a chance to pull straight. But 
 what's the use good, bad, or indifferent, life crushes you, 
 beats you why not live according to your instincts? 
 take your chance it amounts to the same thing in the 
 end." 
 
 "But you have so much," she would say in a faint ef- 
 fort to give him the steadying word that he needed. 
 
 219
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 "Much?" he asked. "What? A lot of unrelated tal- 
 ents an eye for colour, a sporadic feel for music, a knack 
 for playing some parts, but no will to use any of the 
 three. I lack all three of the great co-ordinators I have 
 no faith in myself, no deep hope, and I'm incapable of a 
 love that would strike out self so at thirty-four I stand 
 a pretty rotten failure, and I haven't even the courage 
 to get out of it." 
 
 "But you are so wrong about yourself you think you 
 haven't this or that, but don't you see that you couldn't 
 feel so if you didn't have depths " 
 
 "Yes, I have depths, but they aren't places to be ex- 
 plored. But you are a brave young thing to put up with 
 me." He reached across the table and laid his hand over 
 hers. 
 
 She withdrew her hand gently, surprised by this sud- 
 den display of feeling on his part. He had been so pecu- 
 liarly impersonal in his attitude; in fact, he had never 
 seemed to see her as other than a piece of Nature's handi- 
 craft that pleased his artistic soul. 
 
 This touch of sentiment was without any consequence 
 in their friendship, and they drifted on through the 
 days, Evelyn listening to his bitterness, and his anarchy, 
 and absorbing his philosophy of life, and not only his 
 philosophy but his tastes. The glimpses of comfort and 
 luxury that Bratton Wayne had given her became a daily 
 necessity. 
 
 Sordid surroundings depressed her; good hotels, par- 
 lour cars and cabs grew to be indispensable, and the 
 best food that it was possible to get the very sight of a 
 cheap restaurant with its characteristic odours sickened 
 her. 
 
 Then the clothes question. With his eye for colour and 
 
 line, Hale aroused and trained her latent talent. He 
 
 talked to her of her good and bad points, of the colours 
 
 she should wear, of the style that best suited her, gradu- 
 
 220
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 ally creating in her mind an image that she now approxi- 
 mated, and in time would body forth completely. But 
 the process would require time, and money. 
 
 "You ought to win out big in this business," he would 
 say, "if you ever get hold of a man that sees you as you 
 really are. When you stand with your head at that 
 angle," and with a swift gesture he raised her chin, 
 "and look up at some old fellow with those appealing 
 eyes why, he ought to star you !" 
 
 "Hale," she asked seriously, "do you think it possible 
 for a girl to get on and remain" she paused "good ?" 
 
 He laughed. "Does that trouble your pretty head? 
 Well, to tell the truth, I doubt its possibility, and its 
 desirability but I don't want to put notions in your 
 mind. Before you go much farther, you'll decide for 
 yourself. But listen to me, Evelyn, whatever you decide 
 don't let them beat you." 
 
 "Beat me?" 
 
 "Oh, I don't mean with their fists! But they will do 
 you if they can. They'll lose their heads over you, but 
 cheat you if they can. Don't let them do it, make 
 them pay, and pay high you are worth it worth all 
 any man can give." Then he added fiercely : "I wish 
 you'd never gotten into this rotten business you don't 
 belong." 
 
 "But there is no way out, and I'll stick until I go 
 under or " 
 
 "Up. You will if you keep your head, and use it." 
 
 After this she began to think more seriously of the 
 possibilities of success, and of her qualifications. What 
 had she? No great gift, she knew, no power, no vivid 
 imagination, no beautiful voice, but since so many had 
 predicted success for her, it must be that she had that 
 mysterious thing, "personality." 
 
 Possessed of that, she required little else, but the need 
 now was to cultivate and intensify it. She began to be 
 
 221
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 curious about her attraction for people, men especially 
 anxious to know how real a thing it was. If a man 
 in the street glanced at her, she wondered if it were only 
 an interest in a passing object or if he detected in her 
 face some rare and arresting quality. 
 
 The loafers about the hotel lobby took on a new im- 
 portance to her did they stare at her because she was 
 a woman or because she was Evelyn Lane? She felt 
 a new willingness to talk to the men in the company, 
 pretended an interest that she did not feel in the ego- 
 saturated stories of the younger star. She saw him re- 
 spond to this appreciation, and was secretly elated. A 
 few hours later she saw him with the same avidity nar- 
 rating his achievements to the carpenter! She was re- 
 stored to her balance, and had a laugh at her own 
 expense. 
 
 Thereafter she tried to check these thoughts, but her 
 point of view had changed materially, and in spite of 
 her efforts she was constantly studying the effect she 
 produced on each and every man that came within her 
 range. Then came a meeting that broke in on this line 
 of thought. 
 
 Easter week "Hope Deferred" was playing in New Or- 
 leans, and as Evelyn came from the theatre Monday 
 morning, where she had been to get her mail, she saw 
 emerging from the stage door of the adjoining theatre 
 Mary Leighton. For a moment the girls faced each 
 other, then there were glad cries, and an ardent embrace. 
 
 "Mary Mary I am so glad what are you doing ?" 
 
 "Still the leads in the melodramas," Mary answered. 
 "And you?" 
 
 "A very small 'yob' with the Triumvirate." 
 
 "That is splendid!" 
 
 "What being the poor boy at the frolic?" Evelyn 
 asked with a laugh. "Come on, let's have lunch, and an 
 old-fashioned talk." She linked her arm in Mary's, and 
 
 222
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 they passed through the arcade that led to the street, and 
 turned into the Grunewald. 
 
 "But why do we go in here? This isn't my style," 
 Mary said. 
 
 "But the food is so good here, and this is my party 
 so don't spoil it, please," Evelyn said as she led the way. 
 
 Over the luncheon they exchanged experiences. With 
 Mary it was the old story. 
 
 "Haven't been able to break away yet," she said, "but 
 next year I'll have my chance. Jennie, my sister, you 
 remember, married last week a prosperous man, and 
 I haven't her to think of now, and by the end of the 
 season I'll have a thousand dollars. I can hold out al- 
 most two years for a real engagement." 
 
 "Oh, I am so glad !" Evelyn exclaimed. "You've been 
 so brave " 
 
 "Oh, no! that is, not especially it takes a sort of 
 courage you know that." 
 
 "I used to I've grown to be an awful coward." 
 
 "Nonsense but I'll tell you what you have grown " 
 
 "What?" 
 
 "A beauty " 
 
 "Really?" Evelyn asked. 
 
 "Yes, I always thought you were lovely, but now you 
 are more than that exquisite." 
 
 Evelyn was facing a mirror, and as Mary spoke she 
 glanced at her reflected image. She saw the picture 
 that Mary had called exquisite, and she was forced to 
 admit that the description fitted. Yes, she had changed 
 everything but the eyes they were still sad, still ques- 
 tioning. But the clear, pale skin, the red lips, the soft 
 hair brought low under a becoming hat the immaculate 
 crepe blouse cut low to show the firm white throat all 
 very effective. 
 
 Evelyn's eyes shifted to Mary in her simple, almost 
 severe clothes selected with no thought for beauty, 
 
 223
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 but for service the hat without a softening line, but 
 these things didn't matter when you looked into Mary's 
 clear, steady grey eyes and heard the voice with its 
 many liquid modulations. 
 
 "Now it is your turn," Mary was saying. "Tell your 
 story." 
 
 But beyond the barest outline of her life since the 
 "No Guiding Hand" company, Evelyn had nothing to 
 tell. So much had happened, so much had changed, she 
 felt that she would never be able to make it all clear 
 to Mary, and yet she wanted to tell of the new and dan- 
 gerous things that had come into her heart of late, but 
 the old secretiveness held good, and gradually the talk 
 got back to Mary. 
 
 "By the way," she said, "I was going to do a most 
 unusual thing this afternoon going to the vaudeville 
 house to see the man you used to tell me so much about. 
 He is playing here in his own sketch." 
 
 "Who?" Evelyn asked. 
 
 "Harmon Miller you remember you liked him so 
 well." 
 
 "Yes I used to say that I'd like to make a match 
 between you two didn't I ?" Evelyn asked with a laugh. 
 
 "You did, but I'm afraid that it would be a hopeless 
 task for you to undertake I've decided that men aren't 
 to be they would break in on what I want to do." 
 
 "But do you think a girl can get on in this business 
 without one of them behind her?" 
 
 "Think it ? I know it. If I didn't believe it with all 
 my soul, I would get out not because I think it wrong 
 to have help, or that I am so strait-laced, but I want 
 the fun and glory of doing it all by myself." 
 
 "That sounds fine and strong," Evelyn agreed, "but it 
 is such a hopeless thing for a woman alone." 
 
 Mary looked at her a moment was this the answer? 
 224
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 Then she put by that thought as a horrid, disloyal one. 
 "Don't you want to see Harmon Miller ?" she asked. 
 
 "Oh, I'd like to, and afterwards we'll go back to meet 
 him. It is wonderful to find the two of you here." 
 
 They sat through the long programme until Harmon's 
 act was over, then went around to the stage door to wait 
 for him. 
 
 "Little Evelyn !" he exclaimed as he saw her. "Well, 
 this is a surprise." 
 
 "I'm so glad to see you, Harmon." Then she presented 
 him to Mary. 
 
 "Won't the two of you have dinner with me?" he 
 asked, and when they consented, he added: "I have to 
 go out to the front of the house to see the manager, but 
 I won't keep you waiting ten minutes." 
 
 "Suppose we go to the hotel, and you call for us, Har- 
 mon, when you are ready," Evelyn suggested. 
 
 "That's a good idea," he agreed. "I'll be right along 
 as soon as I get through with our little conference." 
 
 When the two girls were in Evelyn's room, Mary was 
 asked how she liked him. 
 
 "I am not going to commit myself ; but he can act that 
 always disposes me towards any one," she answered. 
 "Good actors aren't so rare with you, Evelyn, as they 
 are with me." 
 
 "No, we have some very good ones with us." 
 
 "You ought to learn a lot from watching them," Mary 
 said. 
 
 Evelyn checked herself before she admitted that she 
 never watched them. 
 
 "I've always wanted to see Clara Melton she was 
 great in her time." 
 
 "She is now," Evelyn said, "and Miss Hunter is 
 clever, too, even if she is an intellectual fake." 
 
 Mary looked quickly at her was this Evelyn speak- 
 ing? "Who else is in the company?" she asked. 
 
 225
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 "Blair and Mortimer you know the two stars. I 
 like Mr. Blair's work, but Mr. Mortimer seems awfully 
 artificial to me so natural until he is unnatural. Then 
 we have Timothy Haynes, and Jack Strang, and " 
 
 The ringing of the telephone interrupted her. "Yes," 
 she answered. "I just came in went with a friend 
 girl friend to the vaudeville. Sorry, but I'm going to 
 dinner with some other people see you later." She 
 turned to Mary : "That was Hale Johnston. I wish you 
 could see him act; he does only a bit, but he is remark- 
 able in it, and he has such a good mind he has been 
 awfully kind to me." She turned candid eyes to Mary. 
 
 The next moment the older woman had her arms about 
 her, and was saying : "You are just the same sweet Eve- 
 lyn, and I'm so glad." 
 
 226
 
 CHAPTER NINETEEN 
 
 r I^HE dinner with Harmon was a great success, though 
 A he did not take them to a place that would have 
 suited the fastidious Hale. But they had a lot of in- 
 teresting talk, and heard Harmon out on his vaudeville 
 experiences. 
 
 "I worked for the other fellow for years, and it didn't 
 get me anything, so I branched out for myself. I'm 
 not getting famous, but I'm making money, and that's 
 what counts." 
 
 Mary disagreed with him, and said so in round terms, 
 adding that it was a shame to waste years on a thing 
 like his present vehicle when he might be playing good 
 parts, and making a real reputation for himself. 
 
 "That's all very well, but I've had years of trying to 
 do the artistic, and sometimes I ate, and then again I 
 didn't. But with this little act I can make a small fortune, 
 and then maybe I'll go in for the high-brow stuff." 
 
 "But you'll get so busy making money, you'll forget 
 the other, and our stage needs all the comedians it can 
 get we have so few real ones." 
 
 "Oh, Mary, you are so idealistic, and Harmon and I 
 are rank materialists we think always about money!" 
 Evelyn put in. 
 
 "Nonsense the first duty of a good actor is to act, and 
 this man here is wasting his talent." 
 
 Harmon had his share of vanity, and this plain-spoken 
 appreciation pleased him greatly. And the girl with her 
 frankness, and her definiteness, pleased him even more. 
 He found himself opposing her just to see her fine, 
 steady eyes light up with earnestness and enthusiasm as 
 
 227
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 she set forth her opinions and beliefs. Soon they drifted 
 into a discussion of acting. 
 
 They talked of "tricks" and "points," and effects, and 
 the methods of this man, and the deficiencies of an- 
 other. Here was no admission of "acting consists in get- 
 ting your personality over the footlights." Both believed 
 in work, study, observation, and "acting brains." 
 
 Evelyn sat silent through it all. She was interested, 
 but not enough to take any part, and she had no opin- 
 ions worth while offering when they appealed to her, as 
 they did very rarely as the dinner wore on. 
 
 She wished in a half-hearted way that she could al- 
 ways be associated with Mary. Under her influence it 
 would be easy to be strong, and thrifty, and ambitious. 
 And the next moment she wondered if she would not 
 be worn out trying to live up to Mary's vitality. She 
 remembered how Mary, in spite of the hard travel, the 
 bad hotels, and dreary theatres, had always been ready 
 to talk about acting as an art, and about Life as a thing 
 to be lived and loved. 
 
 She, Evelyn, had borne the same hardships, but she 
 had been tired and apathetic when not actively wretched 
 about Bob. Then she had imagined that once free of 
 Bob her life would be easy and happy. And now though 
 she was doing fairly well, making money and receiving 
 her share of flattery and attention, she was scarcely any 
 happier not positively unhappy, but sinking into anxiety 
 and depression when not stimulated by some external 
 agency. 
 
 While playing the good part in Miss Hartwell's com- 
 pany, Evelyn had fancied that she really was fond of 
 acting, and ambitious to get on, but now that she had 
 only a "bit" it never occurred to her to be miserable about 
 it or to prepare herself for the time when good parts 
 would be her portion. 
 
 She had absorbed the shibboleth of her profession, 
 228
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 "personality," and her mental quest these days was to 
 find out just how much of this precious quality was hers. 
 
 Though Evelyn was delighted to see Mary and Har- 
 mon, and pleased that through her they had been brought 
 together, she was glad to escape them and their talk, and 
 return to the more sophisticated, more incisive though 
 less vital mentality of Hale Johnston. 
 
 But he was in a sullen, ungracious mood when she 
 reached the theatre, and though he said nothing, she 
 sensed that it was because he had spent the afternoon 
 alone, and dined by himself, a thing he had not done 
 since the beginning of their friendship. 
 
 "Anything wrong?" she asked as she stood in his 
 dressing room door. 
 
 "No," he answered, looking up from his book. He 
 was not on until the second act and he filled in the first 
 act with reading. "What could be wrong?" 
 
 "You seem out of sorts." 
 
 "Because I indulge in the quaint and obsolete pastime 
 of reading?" he asked disagreeably. 
 
 "No," Evelyn said with a laugh, "but because you are 
 rude to me that is something new for you." And she 
 passed on to her dressing room. 
 
 When she was out of sight he slammed down the book 
 and closed the door that he had left open to see her pass. 
 
 "I will not!" he said to himself fiercely. "Life is hell 
 enough without such things." 
 
 His black mood continued, and he avoided her, almost 
 hating her for her ability to annoy him. Evelyn felt a 
 decided relief in being free of him. She spent the week 
 with Mary, and it was scarcely any time before the old 
 sympathy and interest between them was re-established. 
 
 Evelyn caught some of Mary's enthusiasm, and began 
 to have vague longings to succeed as an actress, not to 
 drift along led by whatever hand that was held out to 
 her. Gradually her natural reticence broke under Mary's 
 
 229
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 sympathetic questioning, and she sketched out the life 
 she had led since her flight from Bob. 
 
 "I saw him one night in New York it was the night 
 I was so down. He was just the same awful ! I won- 
 der how I ever did it. Isn't it terrible the way they bring 
 us up not to know anything? You know you used to 
 say that we were trained in everything but the things we 
 needed in our struggle for existence." 
 
 "I know," Mary answered, "but there was an instinct 
 in you that taught you how to handle the case. Perhaps 
 you were wiser acting on that instinct than if you had 
 been burdened with a lot of second-hand ideas of how 
 to cope with the situation." 
 
 "Perhaps but it took me so long to learn how to meet 
 the things that came up. I don't know now," she said, 
 with a shrug of her shoulders. 
 
 "You don't meet them; you just fit in that is your 
 charm, and your danger." Mary was about to say 
 "your tragedy," but she checked herself, not wishing to 
 give Evelyn another negative suggestion. She hated all 
 of the influences that had wrought upon Evelyn. True, 
 they had made her an exquisite piece of femininity, but 
 the enervation caused by a luxury that she could not 
 afford, and would not be able to keep up, filled her with 
 deep anxiety for her friend. 
 
 Evelyn moved from her hotel to Mary's, and, as in the 
 old days, they had adjoining rooms. During the week 
 she was attacked on all sides by the steadying and uplift- 
 ing philosophy of Mary. And when they dined with Har- 
 mon, as they often did, his practical and virile mind was 
 brought to bear on her, and between the two she felt old 
 desires awakening, old standards returning, old strength 
 reviving. 
 
 What did it matter what the company thought of her 
 and her poverty ? Why should she spend her little all in 
 trying to keep up with people who were earning double, 
 230
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 treble, even ten times as much as she? And what good 
 was it to have now the luxuries of life, if on her return 
 to New York she was to be plunged into dire poverty? 
 
 All of the talk of being able at any time to get work 
 was a myth, a thing that Hale might believe, but which 
 had no substratum of truth. Girls, prettier, better known, 
 more gifted than she, went months without work. 
 
 Facing this truth, Evelyn thought with terror of the 
 closing of the season. She had not saved a cent. She 
 had some pretty clothes, an intimate knowledge of all the 
 good hotels and fashionable restaurants in the country 
 through which they had passed, but that would not sup- 
 port her when she was occupying a cheerless room on the 
 top floor of some theatrical rooming house. 
 
 "Evelyn," Mary said one night as they sat late talking, 
 "why don't you give up this job and go back to New 
 York and get in a good summer stock?" 
 
 "Why, how could I?" she asked, wondering if Mary 
 had suffered a sudden loss of reason. 
 
 "I'll lend you the money," Mary went on hastily. "I'm 
 sure you could land a good one. I can give you a letter 
 to Mack Morton that would be apt to get you in with 
 him. But I'll stake you as long as you are there." 
 
 "Are you really so uneasy about me?" Evelyn asked. 
 "I'm all right, Mary; you don't know how safe I am." 
 
 "I'm not uneasy, but I know you ought to be at work. 
 You have nothing to do here but to eat and be merry, and 
 I don't think that is good for any girl who has to work 
 for a living. You aren't learning anything about acting ; 
 you aren't saving money so what good is it?" 
 
 "Do you think I'd take your money just now, when it 
 means a chance for you ?" 
 
 "I'll get my chance. I want you to have one, little 
 Evelyn, and I want you to get away from people who 
 aren't worthy of you. This man Johnston may be very 
 harmless in a sex way, but he is a demoralising influence. 
 
 231
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 He fills your head with a lot of cheap sophistries that 
 won't help you at all. He seems generous and consider- 
 ate, but he isn't giving you a real thought he is using 
 you to kill time for himself. He may mean well, but he 
 is selfish and self-centred, and you'll pass along just as 
 the others that he has won with his insidious, spurious 
 charm." 
 
 "But I'm not in the least in love with him, Mary," 
 Evelyn protested. 
 
 "I know, and if you were he'd soon break your heart, 
 and then, because you're a practical little creature, you 
 would get away from him. But it is because you aren't 
 aware of his viciousness that he is doing you so much 
 harm. Take me up, and get away I mean it, Evelyn, 
 right from my heart." 
 
 "I couldn't, Mary I couldn't. I don't know what I am 
 going to do, but I'm not going to fall down on you just 
 because I haven't a fine, strong character. If I'm weak 
 and silly I have got to go through with it. I suppose if 
 it wasn't Hale it would be some one else so " 
 
 Mary, failing in this plan, tried other tactics. She 
 talked and preached "acting" its beauty and value, until 
 finally Evelyn caught a little of her fire, and vowed that 
 she, too, would burn a candle of faith and devotion before 
 the high altar of Art. 
 
 The week ended, and the girls parted. The last night 
 they had supper with Harmon after the play, and Evelyn 
 saw that a real friendship had been formed between Mary 
 and Harmon. For the first time Mary seemed really in- 
 terested in a man, and as for Harmon, his eyes never 
 left her face. 
 
 They were to meet again soon, as her company and his 
 act were to play Dallas, Texas, the same week. His eyes 
 lighted with joy at this discovery, and he lifted his glass 
 to drink to their next meeting. 
 
 That night, long after the girls had gone to bed, they 
 232
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 continued their talk through the door that opened be- 
 tween the rooms. 
 
 "Some day you'll be Mrs. Harmon Miller," Evelyn said 
 through the darkness. 
 
 "Nonsense!" came the answer. "I have no intention 
 of marrying." 
 
 "Perhaps not, but Harmon has, and he has a way of 
 getting what he wants. You know you like him," she 
 said insinuatingly. 
 
 "Yes, but marrying is something else I shall " 
 
 Then she said no more, for she was not nearly so sure 
 as she had been a week ago that she never wanted to 
 marry. 
 
 Mary's company moved on into Texas, and "Hope De- 
 ferred" was working East again by way of the Gulf 
 states. 
 
 The breach between Evelyn and Hale had never closed, 
 and she took advantage of her freedom to get a good 
 start in the way of saving money. 
 
 At first it was easy, as they were covering territory 
 that Evelyn knew from days with Bob. She renewed her 
 acquaintance with the cheaper hotels and poorer res- 
 taurants. The body often rebelled against the dictates 
 of the spirit, and as time went on and Mary's influence 
 weakened she rebelled more and more against the sordid 
 surroundings, and was less able to eat the food that she 
 felt she could afford. 
 
 But at the end of two weeks she had saved forty dol- 
 lars and this was encouragement enough to start bravely 
 on the third week. 
 
 For some time Evelyn had known that Hale was weary 
 of his isolation, and that only his pride kept him from 
 attempting a reconciliation. She offered him no en- 
 couragement, aware that a resumption of friendly rela- 
 tions would plunge her into new and unnecessary ex- 
 travagances. So she gave him no chance to make friends, 
 
 233
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 and he fumed and fussed to himself and gave free rein 
 to all the fierceness and bitterness in him, only losing 
 this in a mad recklessness that came with drinking. 
 
 "Hope Deferred" was having three weeks of one-night 
 stands, and they were especially trying to Hale. To sit 
 for hours in a car and look at the faces of the people in 
 the company their fat, well-kept, smug faces; to hear 
 their small, self-saturated talk and their second-hand 
 opinions on all subjects; to see them read the lightest 
 and cheapest of literature rilled him with an unholy rage. 
 
 And Evelyn was doing her share to irritate him. She 
 not only avoided him on the trains, but in the theatre 
 and hotels, and one day he met her face to face as she 
 emerged from a dairy lunch room. He felt that she was 
 doing it to punish him, and it made him wildly angry. 
 
 "What are you attempting slow starvation ?" he asked 
 insultingly. 
 
 She looked at him a moment and passed on without a 
 word. There had been in his eyes something that con- 
 tradicted the roughness of his speech a yearning, a ten- 
 derness, and a fleeting glimpse of a tortured soul. 
 
 The third week was drawing to its close, and Evelyn 
 had been able to save more this week than during the 
 two previous. There had been fewer sleeper jumps, and 
 shorter trips, that lessened parlour-car fares. 
 
 There was money in her pocket, but her spirits were 
 far down, and, her vitality never abounding, through lack 
 of good food, necessary exercise and diversion, was at 
 low ebb. She remembered the words of Hale : "Suppose 
 you skimp and save you make yourself a physical 
 wreck, and you set your standard so low that whatever 
 Fate chooses to hand you seems good enough." 
 
 Was that true? Was it the part of wisdom to live 
 well and let the morrow take care of itself ? But it wasn't 
 that she did not live well enough ; the less expensive ho- 
 tels were clean, but there was no atmosphere, no charm, 
 234
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 nothing to satisfy her sense of beauty just a place to 
 sleep. And the food in cheaper restaurants was not bad 
 once she had thought it good enough. Mary could 
 stand it, and Mary was as finely organised as she. But 
 she couldn't eat it any longer, however she might reason 
 about it. The least kitchen odour, or the sight of a 
 greasy-coated waiter deprived her of all appetite. 
 
 Worst of all was the loneliness. She had grown so 
 used to the interest and attention of Bratton Wayne and 
 then Hale Johnston. Through all this time she tried to 
 keep her mind cheerful by remembering the simple, 
 happy hours she had spent with Hubbard, but they grew 
 dimmer and failed of comfort. She told herself that she 
 wanted to live as he would like her to, keeping all of the 
 qualities he had loved. If she were free she would 
 go to him, and in his strength she would find content. 
 
 The slow train rattled on through the low, swampy 
 Florida land. The dead trees, with long, hanging grey 
 moss, made the forests ghostly and sad ; built-up board- 
 walks followed the tracks for a while, then plunged into 
 the woods and were lost to sight leading, Evelyn won- 
 dered, to what lonely hut. There would be a sudden 
 cessation of trees and a long stretch of plain with a small 
 town set down in its midst ; an occasional fine estate broke 
 the monotony of the landscape, and over it all the soft 
 glow of the setting sun. The gold deepened into red as 
 the sun hung for a moment on the horizon, then red 
 yielded to gold, gold to purple, and purple to the twilight 
 grey. 
 
 Evelyn forgot her woes and problems and leaned back 
 in her corner, unconscious of the fat woman who had 
 crowded into the seat with her. 
 
 The train stopped with a jerk and a voice said : "This 
 is Pensacola." 
 
 She turned, surprised to see Hale standing in the aisle, 
 speaking to her. Without answering, she picked up her 
 
 235
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 bag and squeezed past the fat woman, who was dozing. 
 
 Hale followed her out and as she stepped from the 
 train he took her arm and led her to the nearest taxi. 
 
 "I don't want a cab," she said. "I want to walk up." 
 
 "You are going to stop being such a great little goose," 
 he answered, without relaxing his hold on her arm. 
 
 "I don't want a cab," she repeated, trying to look very 
 stern. 
 
 "You have nothing to say about it." 
 
 "But " By this time she was inside the cab, and 
 
 he was giving directions to the chauffeur. She told her- 
 self that she did not want to go with him, but that she 
 could not make a scene before the company, who no 
 doubt were agog with gossip over the reconciliation. In 
 reality she was very glad to once more be taken care of. 
 
 They dined together, and Hale ordered the best that 
 the house afforded the dinner and the wine seemed per- 
 fect to Evelyn. 
 
 No word was said about the break in their friendship, 
 but that night he came into her dressing room, closed 
 the door, and stood with his back to it. She knew that 
 he had been drinking, for she had seen a stage hand 
 bringing in Scotch highballs from a neighbouring saloon, 
 but there was a wildness about him that was not alto- 
 gether the effect of whiskey. 
 
 "Hale!" she exclaimed, frightened by the light in his 
 eyes. 
 
 "It's nothing," he said huskily, "only be good to me. I 
 have no soul, and hell is in my heart. I don't ask any- 
 thing just don't desert me I need you I need you." 
 
 "Yes, yes, Hale," she said soothingly, and laid her own 
 cool hands on his hot ones. 
 
 He closed over them in a vise-like grip, which loosened 
 in convulsive pressures. "I'm no good I'm a rotter, a 
 beast; but your goodness, your sweetness " 
 -236-
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 "Never mind." She pressed him gently into a chair, 
 and stood by with her hand on his shoulder. 
 
 "God, what a thing I am sick of life afraid to 
 < 
 
 "Now, don't; just try to forget it. You are fine and 
 wonderful yes, you are, and you mustn't think other 
 things." She began to stroke his hair with a long, sooth- 
 ing stroke that brought rest to his jangling nerves. 
 
 She went on talking to him in a low, gentle voice, grad- 
 ually working from thoughts of himself to trivial things 
 of the day's happening. He grew quiet and relaxed, and 
 when she suggested that they leave the theatre, he was 
 ready to accompany her without a trace of the emotional 
 storm remaining. 
 
 Miss Hunter saw them emerge from the dressing room, 
 and remarked to the wife of the stage manager, "That 
 affair is passing beyond the bounds of decency." 
 
 237
 
 CHAPTER TWENTY 
 
 THE season dragged on, and the restored friendship 
 bore the strain of travelling and constant association 
 better than it had before the rupture. Evelyn resisted 
 temptation sufficiently to add each week to her bank ac- 
 count, and felt more comfortable with the knowledge 
 that she would return to New York with enough money 
 to carry her through the summer. 
 
 Hale never talked of his plans for the summer ahead 
 of them, and once, when she broached the subject, he 
 said abruptly, "I refuse to think beyond the day." But 
 her question did make him think, for a black mood came 
 over him which lasted for days. 
 
 These moods had no depressing effect on Evelyn, but 
 she regretted them on his account, and surrounded him 
 with a gentle sympathy that did much to eradicate them. 
 
 The company worked up the coast line and the last two 
 weeks of May were spent in Boston. 
 
 This was Hale Johnston's home, and many people came 
 to claim his time and attention, but he never neglected 
 her. They went to all the places of interest in a big 
 touring car placed at Hale's disposal by an old school 
 friend. There were delightful afternoon concerts, and 
 charmingly planned dinners. These two weeks were 
 among the most perfect and beautiful of her life, but 
 they moved her farther away from the stern realities and 
 necessities of the daily struggle. 
 
 After Boston they crossed the country for a return en- 
 gagement of two weeks in Chicago. This was to close 
 the season. 
 
 Chicago in the first weeks of June showed itself in its 
 238
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 most pleasing aspect, and Evelyn, from her window that 
 overlooked Lake Michigan, which glistened and danced 
 in the sunlight, and shimmered and shone in the moon- 
 light, saw the best of it. 
 
 To escape the noise and heat of downtown she had 
 gone to a hotel on the South Side. It was more ex- 
 pensive than she could afford, but Hale had insisted that 
 they have a decent place to live the last weeks of the 
 season. 
 
 "You'll be back in New York in those awful dumps 
 soon enough," he said in his selfishness, never thinking 
 that the money she might save now would make those 
 same "dumps" much more bearable. Money had no value 
 to Hale beyond its present purchasing power, and he 
 could never see the need of denying to-day for a time 
 that was ahead. 
 
 For some time past the last week in Boston it be- 
 gan he had been in a bitter, sullen mood, and Evelyn 
 had consented to this new extravagance in order to see 
 him through the bad time. She had grown to feel a real 
 responsibility for him, and he took advantage of her 
 sympathy and indulged in all of the eccentricities of his 
 wilful, warped nature. 
 
 The last week in Chicago he threw off his depression, 
 but Evelyn, who had come to understand him well, was 
 aware that it was a throwing off engendered by a deter- 
 mination to suffer no more. The demon was not van- 
 quished, but lurked in the background, to spring forward 
 on the least provocation. 
 
 Therefore, to keep him cheerful and normal during 
 the last two weeks she fell in with all of his plans ; al- 
 lowed him to spend his money riotously with no checking 
 word from her. 
 
 He lunched and dined her ; he hired a car by the week, 
 and they drove to and from the theatre, thus escaping 
 the dirt and tedium of the trains. They made all-day 
 
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 The Least Resistance 
 
 motor trips to adjacent resorts, returning just in time for 
 the evening performance. 
 
 Hale's behaviour during all this time aroused Evelyn's 
 curiosity, and piqued her vanity. He seemed almost un- 
 aware of her presence ; in a dreamlike mood, as though 
 there were no such things as thoughts or feelings. But 
 the least effort to withdraw herself from him was a 
 signal for a vehement protest and a bitter speech. 
 
 "You'll be rid of me soon enough can't you stand one 
 more day?" 
 
 "Oh, Hale, it isn't that." 
 
 This was always his attitude that everything would 
 end with the closing of the season. Evelyn remembered 
 with a little smile the expression current among actors : 
 "He loved her, but the season closed." 
 
 She wondered if he really would be willing to see her 
 no more. She knew that she suited him he had often 
 told her that he had never gotten along with any one 
 so well. Evelyn thought of these things with no emo- 
 tion save a real thankfulness that he had never taken any 
 hold on her affections. 
 
 Alone in her room that overlooked the lake, thoughts 
 of Hale scarcely ever obtruded themselves. When she 
 was not planning for the future, trying to decide on some 
 course that promised success, her mind would conjure up 
 visions of Hubbard in his new life. 
 
 Again and again she pictured the plantation, the cotton 
 fields, that memories of her childhood supplied ; the old- 
 fashioned home he had described to her, built by 
 slave labour before the war, built so solidly that time 
 had made little impression on it. Inconvenient and hard 
 to heat in the winter, but a wonderful place in the sum- 
 mer, with its great hall that ran through the centre, the 
 four large rooms that flanked the hall, and the kitchen 
 connected by an uncovered brickway with the dining 
 room. 
 
 240
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 She could even see the old furniture and the family 
 portraits on the wall. Clearer than anything she could 
 picture the green stretch in front of the house, the great 
 peony bushes, and in the spring the bridal wreath bush 
 that grew by the porch. The row of locust trees that 
 made the air heavy with fragrance, and beyond the blue 
 lake that was the eastern boundary of the plantation, 
 and especially dear to Grandmother, as it lessened con- 
 siderably her fencing expenses. 
 
 All of these things Evelyn knew, and during the wake- 
 ful hours of the night she pieced them together to make 
 a complete picture of the surroundings of Hubbard. 
 
 She liked to think of him as a planter there was 
 something broad and romantic in the word that suited 
 her feeling for him. 
 
 And between her and this happiness stood the reeking, 
 almost reeling, specimen of humanity who had passed 
 her like a phantom in the twilight. Thoughts of free- 
 dom, of divorce, fluttered through her brain, but he 
 had never asked, never even suggested. He had given 
 her up entirely when he heard that she was married. 
 Perhaps he didn't believe in divorces. She knew that he 
 had been brought up in a religion that did not look kindly 
 on the separation of man and wife. 
 
 With a patient sigh Evelyn turned over, and soon sleep 
 stilled her tired brain. With sleep came dreams of Brat- 
 ton Wayne, and always in these dreams she was in Paris 
 with him, and they were driving furiously up boulevards, 
 down avenues, never arriving at their destination. She 
 grew cold and dizzy in the speeding car, and shrieked to 
 the chauffeur to stop the next moment she was awake. 
 
 Night and its silence was about her and through the 
 wide-open window the great lake lay brooding and sombre 
 in the waning light of the moon. The world was at rest, 
 at peace, hushed in the great, still beauty, growing strong 
 and fresh for the day ahead protected and ordered by 
 
 241
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 something by God. A prayer was on her lips, a peti- 
 tion that he would protect and order her life : "For I am 
 very weak, God, and life is so hard." 
 
 The next day was the last Saturday of the season. 
 There was a matinee, then dinner at the La Salle with 
 Hale, and back to the theatre for the evening perform- 
 ance. 
 
 The dinner ordered in advance was the last word in 
 the art of dining Hale had brought his genius for high- 
 living to bear on it. In spite of its perfection Hale ate 
 little, but the amount he drank frightened Evelyn, used 
 as she was to his prodigality in that direction. 
 
 She said nothing, knowing full well that he was trying 
 to deaden some ache. Neither had spoken of this being 
 the last night; they tried to be gay, but with poor suc- 
 cess. Evelyn was filled with thoughts of the summer 
 ahead of her in New York, and Hale was solemnly intent 
 on drowning some unwelcome emotion. 
 
 Toward the end of the dinner he grew recklessly gay 
 and by the time they had reached the theatre his spirits 
 were higher than she had ever known them, but she knew 
 also what the reaction would be. 
 
 Evelyn was free after the first act, but it had been her 
 custom to wait for Hale. To-night she packed her trunk 
 leisurely, then sat down with a magazine, but through 
 her half-open door she could hear the actors on the stage, 
 and she found herself listening with fresh interest to the 
 scene between the three men Blair, Mortimer, and Hale 
 Johnston. She heard the powerful, insolent brutality of 
 Blair, the effective declamatory voice of Mortimer, and 
 then the cold, incisive delivery of Hale, which changed 
 as he was cornered by the others, into a fiery, tortured 
 quality. Then came the pistol shot and Hale's sensa- 
 tional death cry. 
 
 "He has it in him," Evelyn said to herself. "He could 
 242
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 be great if only he'd keep straight." She had a quixotic 
 wish to give herself to the cause of keeping him straight, 
 but her practical mind knew that the little influence she 
 had over him would be of brief duration. 
 
 The act was over, and Evelyn heard him run up the 
 stairs to his room. A little while later he was at her 
 door, dressed for the street. He came in, closed the door, 
 and stood with his back to it, as he had so many times, 
 looking at her with eyes wildly bright from drink and 
 the excitement of the strenuous scene he had just finished. 
 
 "Well," he said in a quick, harsh voice, "it's over. I'm 
 breaking the rule of my life in saying good-bye to you. I 
 hate good-byes they are so meaningless, or so devas- 
 tating. But you've been fine to put up with me. I'm a 
 failure and a rotter ! There's a girl in Boston" he gave 
 a short, reckless laugh "worth a million. She likes me 
 we've been engaged years. I'm going through with it 
 it'll please my family; reconcile them they'll provide 
 liberally. I'm going to hit all the high spots of life, and 
 then go out like this." He reached over and switched off 
 the lights the room was in darkness. The next mo- 
 ment Evelyn was in his arms, strained to him in a mad, 
 stifling embrace. 
 
 "God take care of you," he said hoarsely. "I wish I 
 could." 
 
 He left that night for Boston. Evelyn waited for the 
 company's move the next morning. Hale was gone, but 
 his influence remained, an influence that affected her 
 more profoundly and dangerously than she dreamed. 
 
 He had imposed on her a philosophy of life which was 
 radically opposed to her nature and mentality. He had 
 shaken her faith in the practicality of virtue and thrift; 
 aided her in her gravitation towards luxury. He had set 
 her a standard of living that she couldn't afford; made 
 her faintly intolerant of the flat and commonplace; 
 
 243
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 awakened in her a sense of her artistic value, and aroused 
 her curiosity as to the power of her sex appeal. 
 
 But deeper and subtler in its effect was his good-bye. 
 For months he had absorbed her time and attention, 
 drawn on her sympathy, estranged her from the other 
 members of the company, and, as platonic as their rela- 
 tion had been, there had been no attempt on his part to 
 keep the tongue of scandal silent ; rather he had courted 
 it. Then he had wiped her out with a few, no doubt 
 carefully planned, dramatic sentences. 
 
 True, he had, in the course of their friendship, been 
 generous and considerate, but in a selfish, material way 
 she had always been the one who fitted in. Evelyn was 
 not in love with him, but her regard had been genuine, 
 and, in a way, unselfish. He suffered, but she knew that 
 he wanted her because he couldn't have her. His real 
 agony was that Life had beaten him into accepting some- 
 thing that he didn't want. 
 
 The company reached New York Monday afternoon, 
 and a short time later Evelyn was settled in a little room 
 on Forty-fifth Street. There was the inevitable couch 
 covered with a faded spread, the rickety dresser-wash- 
 stand, the worn carpet, and the cheap pictures on the 
 hard green wall. This was what she had returned to 
 what she was to live in daily contact with until Fate or 
 Fortune smiled on her. Across the street stood the great 
 brick and stone hotel, the embodiment of comfort and 
 luxury. She would have felt at home there; here she 
 was a stranger, a lonely stranger with neither the energy 
 nor the inclination to sally forth to the fifty-cent table 
 d'hote below stairs. 
 
 244
 
 CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE 
 
 FOR a month Evelyn searched industriously for work, 
 but with no success, then suddenly the monotony 
 of the days was broken by a two-weeks' stock engage- 
 ment in Washington. 
 
 She was sent on to replace the ingenue who was out 
 of the cast on account of illness. They were two hot, 
 hard-working weeks, but Evelyn was grateful for them, 
 and enjoyed the association with the company of inter- 
 esting, capable people. It was over all too soon and she 
 was again in New York, face to face with the old situa- 
 tion. 
 
 During her absence her room had been rented, and she 
 was forced to seek other quarters. She decided to go 
 farther uptown, and to find a place near the Park if 
 possible. Her search was rewarded by a very pleasant 
 room and fairly good board that could be had for eight 
 dollars a week. 
 
 There were few people in the house. Every one who 
 could afford it had forsaken the heated city. Only those 
 held by work or poverty were staying in town through 
 the hot month of August. 
 
 The papers were filled with prostration lists. The 
 parks and recreation piers were crowded by day and 
 night with the poor in a frantic effort to find a breath of 
 air. To escape their stifling rooms, beds were spread 
 on fire escapes and sweltering humanity slept out under 
 the night sky. 
 
 Every morning at ten Evelyn journeyed downtown 
 through the heat to see what was to be had in the way 
 of engagements. She sat for hours in stuffy offices, 
 
 245
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 stood in a perspiring patient crowd in managers' ante- 
 rocms, hurried down baking streets with the sun beating 
 pitilessly down on her. She bore all with a grim deter- 
 mination to see the game through, even if at the end she 
 collapsed there were moments when she felt the collapse 
 was near. A sudden dizziness and tension in the head 
 made her think of sunstrokes and prostrations and in 
 alarm she would dash into a soda fountain for a cooling 
 drink. Somewhat revived she returned to the chase. 
 
 It was the middle of September before she secured an 
 engagement. And in spite of her necessity she debated 
 long whether she should accept it. The play was not to 
 open before the middle of October. That meant a month 
 of rehearsing, with no assurance that it would last more 
 than a week ; in fact, chances were against it, for the star 
 was a notoriously unsuccessful one. But with no other 
 prospect before her, Evelyn decided to venture it. 
 
 The rehearsal dragged along for two weeks and then 
 the director was changed. He hurried them along, and 
 the out-of-town opening was moved up a week. This 
 was good news to the weary company, and they started 
 off to Atlantic City in high spirits. 
 
 Evelyn had never been to the famous seaside resort 
 and she enjoyed her stay there, especialy as the play was 
 well received, and the company gay and friendly. 
 
 They played around the East, and after four weeks of 
 business that dropped from indifferent to positively bad, 
 the company was closed and sent back to New York. 
 
 The weeks flew by, and it was Christmas Eve before 
 another chance to work came Evelyn's way. It was a 
 silly part in a small time vaudeville act, but her funds 
 were so low that she took the first thing offered her. The 
 act tided her over the New Year, but passed away soon 
 after. 
 
 There was another month of idleness and anxiety, then 
 a chance meeting with Sam Foster secured her a spring 
 ^246
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 stock engagement. The salary was small, barely enough 
 to cover her wardrobe and living expenses, but anything 
 was better than her present situation. 
 
 The long, hard season had pulled her down, but it had 
 brought a new beauty. The eyes, always large and ap- 
 pealing, had grown deeper, sadder ; the question in them 
 intensified. They dominated the pale face, the frail body 
 they gave out the very essence of her personality. 
 
 Evelyn knew, with the right setting, the right clothes, 
 she would pass for a beauty. It was so easy in her room 
 with a few old draperies of a becoming shade to make 
 herself not only picturesque but ineffably lovely. But one 
 couldn't go work hunting in shabby draperies, and with 
 a depleted bank account it was impossible even with her 
 deft fingers to have clothes that were effective. 
 
 She felt a wild resentment that she was so hampered 
 by poverty, so cut off from even presenting herself to an 
 advantage. 
 
 "Oh, for just a little money," she would say to herself 
 fiercely as she worked on through the spring for a mere 
 pittance. 
 
 The spring passed and summer came, closing the stock 
 company. By an effort that had been almost super- 
 human, that meant denying herself the proper food, that 
 meant a room in the cheapest lodging house, that meant 
 sewing late at night to make her own costumes, Evelyn 
 returned to New York with one hundred and forty 
 dollars in her pocket book. 
 
 One hundred and forty dollars, and this the middle of 
 June ! With the best of luck she could scarcely begin to 
 earn money before the middle of August. And every- 
 where she heard that it was to be a late season few com- 
 panies except those whose cast had been engaged last 
 spring would open until after Election Day. November 
 what would become of her? 
 
 She returned to the uptown boarding house and strug- 
 
 247
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 gled through June and July. Then August came again, 
 hot and pitiless in its infliction of suffering on the city. 
 
 After dinner she sat out on the front steps of the 
 boarding house, listening to the desultory talk of three 
 of the young men boarders. It was chiefly of the weather 
 and the heat victims, of trips to Coney Island and 
 other neighbouring beaches. 
 
 No air was stirring, and in the quietness of the evening 
 the voices of people on other steps along the street could 
 be heard they, too, were discussing the heat. But 
 Evelyn was not thinking of the heat, nor hearing the talk 
 that was going on about her. She was going back over 
 the day, the long hours spent waiting to be told that she 
 was not the type or that the part had been filled, or some 
 other words that killed hope in her heart. She had paid 
 her board to-day, and her savings were reduced to sixty 
 dollars. Sixty dollars, and it might be November before 
 she got work ! 
 
 "Will you come, too, Miss Lane ?" a voice was asking. 
 
 "Where ?" she inquired. 
 
 "Where?" Bert Hartley asked with a good-natured 
 laugh. "Down to the Astor roof. A night like this 
 you've got to kill yourself or have a party. Come along, 
 and be a real belle with three beaux." 
 
 "I'd like to go, but I'll have to change my dress." 
 
 "All right, hustle along." 
 
 She felt her way up the dark stairs into her room and 
 lighted the gas. A sudden association in her mind 
 brought back the hot night that Bob had stumbled in, 
 pale and frightened shaken by the death of young 
 Baker. Every incident of the evening returned the 
 heat, the bottle of whiskey that he brought in later, his 
 drunken stupor, the groans that came from him, and then 
 the phonograph across the way that lifted her mind from 
 its sordid surroundings with its suggestion of beauty and 
 hope. She remembered that she had said to herself, with 
 248
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 the vision of young Baker before her, "There is always 
 that way out." 
 
 While these memories were surging to the surface of 
 consciousness she was dressing and arranging her hair. 
 Dressed, she turned from the mirror with a sigh. The 
 result was so far from her ideal. Her clothes were in 
 good taste, but so commonplace ; so utterly lacking in dis- 
 tinction. 
 
 The greeting accorded her by the three cavaliers on the 
 steps revived her spirits, and she set off with something 
 of a new gaiety in her heart. 
 
 They found the roof well filled and were obliged to 
 take a table near the elevator. 
 
 Afterwards Evelyn remembered that there were many 
 attractive women about, nearly all in white, and attended 
 by prosperous-looking men. There were plants and 
 palms, hurrying waiters, cooling drinks, and through it 
 all the crash and swing of the orchestra. But all these 
 things were but the background of the evening. 
 
 The vital thing, the thing that sent the colour to her 
 face and added an extra beat to her heart, was the sight 
 of a large, well-built man with a smooth, kindly face, 
 from which looked sleepy, observing eyes. As he passed 
 her table a well-kept hand with a large signet ring on 
 the little finger stroked his chin. He stood, looking about 
 the room, evidently trying to locate some one. His eyes 
 swept Evelyn's table. Their eyes met ; there was a faint 
 gleam of recognition in his, then he turned away. 
 
 After this she talked gaily with the men about her. 
 Her spirits rose and rose, and in a burst of enthusiasm 
 and hope she faced herself in her mirror after she had 
 said good night to the cavaliers. 
 
 "He recognised you! He likes your type! It's your 
 chance !" 
 
 Something in Brandon's eyes had relit courage. Once 
 
 249
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 he had said, "Come back to me when you have your 
 divorce I like your type." 
 
 Something in the fleeting glance on the roof had said, 
 "I still like your type." 
 
 Evelyn made her plans quickly, definitely, and then, 
 like a good soldier, slept on the eve of battle. 
 
 250
 
 CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO 
 
 FROM her shopping expedition the next day Evelyn 
 returned to the boarding house with thirty-five of 
 her precious dollars gone, but with a gown and hat that 
 set off to the greatest advantage her peculiar and poetic 
 loveliness. It was midsummer, and she had been able 
 to get things at half their former price, and so, though 
 she had paid little for her outfit, it satisfied her exacting 
 taste. 
 
 After dinner she tried on the costume and surveyed 
 herself in the mirror. The dress was soft and white with 
 an overskirt bordered in embroidered roses of a deep red 
 with a touch of yellow at the centre. It was cut low 
 at the neck and sloped over the shoulders in a graceful 
 line that ended at the frilled wrists. A soft black hat 
 with roses that repeated the colour on the skirt, and 
 black slippers that fitted over white silk stockings com- 
 pleted the effective costume. 
 
 With a pleased sigh she removed the new clothes and 
 laid them away in a sachet-scented drawer. 
 
 The next morning, at eleven, dressed in the quaint, 
 becoming costume, and giving forth the faint, seductive 
 fragrance of orris as she passed, Evelyn ascended the 
 stairs that led to the office of Charles Brandon, the all- 
 powerful manager in whose hands the morning's decision 
 lay. She was cool and calm outwardly, making a wel- 
 come picture on the hot August day. 
 
 The office was filled, as it had been the morning several 
 years ago when she had interviewed the great man, and 
 been given such an encouraging reception. 
 
 The people grouped about looked at her as she came 
 
 251
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 in. Two girls ceased their whispered conversation, and 
 one diligently powdered her nose to be a stronger com- 
 petitor of the new arrival. A man rose to give her a 
 chair. It was the same scene, the same atmosphere to 
 Evelyn it almost seemed that the same people were wait- 
 ing. 
 
 After a wait of half an hour through which the tele- 
 phone buzzed and the mechanical voice of the operator 
 cut through the subdued talk of the actors, the door of 
 the private office opened and Brandon appeared. 
 
 He, too, was just as Evelyn remembered him, cool, 
 agreeable and patient. One actor was taken in for a 
 short talk. He came out with a blue roll in his hand, 
 which meant that he had been given a part. There was 
 an order to the secretary to make out a contract for Mr. 
 Ellis. 
 
 This done, Mr. Brandon went on with the others. He 
 was sorry that he had nothing to-day they should come 
 again he would bear them in mind. Then he came to 
 Evelyn. She had risen to meet him. 
 
 "Wait a minute," he said to her, and went on with his 
 dismissals. 
 
 She resumed her seat until his voice from the door 
 of the private office asked her to come inside. She obeyed 
 and he closed the door behind her. 
 
 "Your face is familiar," he said, "but I can't recall 
 your name." He indicated a chair for her. 
 
 "It is wonderful that you should remember my face, 
 you've only seen me once. That was in this room several 
 years ago you offered me an engagement then " 
 
 "Evidently you didn't take it," he said, smiling at her. 
 
 "No, I was looking for a joint engagement. You 
 wouldn't have me then, but you said to come back when 
 I was free that you would give me work. You said 
 you liked my type," she finished with artistic naivete. 
 
 "I remember you perfectly," he said, looking at her 
 252
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 closely. "Time has improved you. Well, are you?" he 
 asked. 
 
 "Yes I'm free," she answered, in her quick, breath- 
 less way. 
 
 "All right, Miss " 
 
 "Lane Evelyn Lane is my name," she said, and he 
 smiled approvingly. 
 
 "Well, now, let's see. I've got to keep my promise, 
 haven't I ?" he asked as he opened a drawer and took out 
 a long sheet of paper. "I haven't much open, but we 
 must do something for you. There is a play going on 
 after Election. That's my big production for the year, 
 and there is a part in it that would just suit you, a good 
 part. How is that ?" 
 
 "Oh, that is fine, Mr. Brandon, but it is so long off, 
 and I " 
 
 "Need work?" he asked kindly, his eyes playing over 
 her with a gentle, appraising glance. 
 
 "Yes, very much." 
 
 "Well, then, I'll tell you what I'll do. I have a play 
 rehearsing downstairs, and there is a girl in it not giving 
 satisfaction. We've got to get rid of her. It isn't much 
 of a part, not much of a salary" he looked at her a 
 moment "only sixty dollars, but it'll tide you over, and 
 when the new play goes on I'll give you a good part." 
 
 "You are so good !" Her eyes closed for a moment, 
 and when they opened bright tears obscured her vision. 
 
 To himself Brandon was saying, "The poor little thing ! 
 The idea of a girl like that being up against it ! What a 
 dainty little thing she is; how untheatrical." 
 
 "I'm glad you are pleased," he said aloud ; "and I hope 
 you are going to be a very good little actress so that I 
 can do a lot for you. I told you a long time ago I liked 
 your type." He had risen and was holding out his hand. 
 "Go downstairs and watch the rehearsal, and to-morrow 
 come in to sign your contract." 
 
 253
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 Her hand was in his, and he gave it a friendly, reas- 
 suring shake. 
 
 Without a word Evelyn passed out of the room, and 
 felt her way down the stairs. She could not see where 
 she was going for tears were blinding her sight. At last ! 
 at last a chance ! A grip on things that might be worth 
 while. 
 
 What it meant, where it would lead, didn't matter 
 now. It meant work, and a chance. And perhaps it 
 meant nothing more than that he did like her type, and 
 that he saw in her acting possibilities. The light in his 
 eyes said more, but he had been kind and tactful, and 
 Evelyn was profoundly grateful. 
 
 The next morning at ten she was on hand for the re- 
 hearsal. The company had been hard at work for ten 
 days, and now it was but two weeks before the opening. 
 Her part ran through two acts and was a slight affair 
 with only a few lines and no acting chance, but it re- 
 quired two gowns and an evening wrap. When she went 
 up to sign her contract she asked Mr. Brandon about the 
 clothes. 
 
 "Since you are getting a small salary," he said, "I'll 
 find the evening gown and wrap for you, and let you get 
 the afternoon one yourself. That's fair, isn't it?" 
 
 "It's more than that it's so generous of you," she re- 
 plied. 
 
 Brandon smiled ; he was used to actresses taking such 
 things as a matter of course, to be bullied out of him 
 if possible, or abused for it when he refused. He thought 
 again, "How untheatrical." 
 
 "Did Mr. Payne tell you your colours?" he asked. 
 
 "Yes ; tan in the first act, and blue in the last. I look 
 horrid in both colours, but " She made a little ges- 
 ture as though it were of no importance. 
 
 "Well, see Mr. Payne, and tell him I say to let you 
 wear anything that doesn't conflict with Miss Gaynor 
 254
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 or Miss Eggleston, or the set. Make your suggestion to 
 him and see what he says." 
 
 The rehearsals moved on, and through that sixth sense 
 with which the actor reads the managerial mind, the 
 company sensed that Evelyn was a favourite at head- 
 quarters. Brandon paid no direct attention to her, but 
 there was something in his voice when he addressed her 
 that spoke volumes to the wise ones. Then she was 
 allowed to change the colour of her costumes to becoming 
 shades rather than rigidly following the colour scheme of 
 the producer that surely meant that she was to be re- 
 garded as a person of importance. 
 
 The women of the company looked at her with in- 
 terest, and even Miss Gaynor was most gracious. The 
 men were polite, even cordial, but careful to avoid any 
 personal note that might make it appear that they were 
 desirous of treading on Brandon's preserves. 
 
 It was a new and not unpleasing situation to Evelyn 
 to be observed, to be treated with a courtesy which said, 
 "You are a decidedly worthwhile person." For the first 
 time she enjoyed rehearsing, and watched with interest 
 the play grow from a ragged, uncertain mass into a defi- 
 nite, smooth whole. 
 
 They opened in Albany, and it was not an opening 
 such as had been the uncertain, unprepared one of the 
 Hartwell play. Even the dress rehearsal was smooth 
 and clean-cut. The well-built scenery was in the hands 
 of a competent stage crew, the actors were under the 
 direction of an efficient producer; there was no friction 
 in the company, for the dominating personality was not a 
 temperamental lady star, but Brandon, calm, suave, and 
 forceful. 
 
 Brandon motored up from New York with a party of 
 friends and after the opening performance Evelyn saw 
 him with these same friends at supper in the hotel res- 
 taurant. She had come in with Miss Eggleston and 
 
 255
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 young Stanley Wells, and from their corner they ob- 
 served and discussed the managerial group. At last 
 Brandon's eye fell on them, and he came over to say a 
 few words about the play. 
 
 "Well, young people," he said in his gracious manner 
 that made him the best-liked manager in the theatrical 
 business; "it looks as if we have a hit. It was a little 
 slow to-night, but to-morrow at rehearsal we'll fix that. 
 You two," he said, indicating Miss Eggleston and young 
 Wells, "did your love scene very well, but you can get a 
 good deal more out of it. And as for you, young lady," 
 he said, looking down on Evelyn, "you were very nice 
 very nice." Their eyes met for an instant, then he turned 
 to the others to bid them "Good night." 
 
 "Well, he is a prince," Stanley Wells said. 
 
 "Do you know any other man in this business who 
 would come over and pass out glad news the way he 
 did ?" Miss Eggleston asked. 
 
 "I tell you I am glad to get with him. I've been try- 
 ing for four years to get in one of his companies, and 
 now that I'm in I mean to stay. He's a prince, I tell 
 you," Wells repeated. 
 
 "Have you ever worked for him before, Miss Lane?" 
 the other girl asked. 
 
 "No ; but he is kind, isn't he ?" 
 
 "Kind ?" the enthusiastic Wells burst in. "I told you 
 that he was a prince." 
 
 Evelyn smiled at his enthusiasm, and a thrill of pride 
 swept over her that she had attracted a man so high up, 
 so liked and respected by his people. She felt a warm 
 glow as though she had a share in this praise. She 
 glanced over to his table and saw the large, well-dressed 
 figure, the well-shaped head, the kindly, shrewd eyes, 
 with the deep lurking sensuality in them. Evelyn felt 
 that she had known him a long time, and that in some 
 subtle way she was a part of him. 
 256
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 For two weeks "The Holdover" played around New 
 York, and then was taken in to try its luck with a Broad- 
 way audience. It was received with faint praise, but for 
 the first few weeks there were good houses and the com- 
 pany hoped that in spite of adverse criticism they would 
 last for many weeks. But with the opening of other and 
 stronger plays business fell away. 
 
 In spite of the talk of a late season every house in 
 town was open, and each week held two or three first 
 nights. 
 
 Evelyn, for the first time in a Broadway production, 
 found every detail of absorbing interest. She read re- 
 views and theatrical news avidly, and not only listened to 
 the talk of the company, but stated her own opinions with 
 a new force and definiteness. She attended matinees 
 that did not conflict with her own. Other afternoons 
 she went with Miss Eggleston or Miss Gaynor to tea 
 rooms or art exhibits, and often after the evening per- 
 formance one of the men would invite her and Marie 
 Eggleston to supper. 
 
 Evelyn never went alone with a man. Some deep in- 
 stinct told her that friendship with men was for her an 
 impossible thing. She seemed to have no faculty for 
 holding men off ; it was so her nature to fit in. But she 
 had resolved that there would be no more profitless fit- 
 ting in. 
 
 "What a nice place you have here," Marie Eggleston 
 said one afternoon when she had dropped in on Evelyn 
 for a cup of tea. 
 
 Evelyn was established in a pleasant room, high up 
 in one of the better class hotels in the theatrical dis- 
 trict. She felt that her home must be in keeping with 
 the atmosphere of interest and importance that sur- 
 rounded her in the company. 
 
 "Yes, it's pleasant enough, away from the noise and 
 dirt, and really delightful at night. I often sit by this 
 
 257
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 window when I come home and look out over the city. 
 It's nice to be here, quiet and alone after the day." 
 
 Marie looked at her sharply. "I hate being alone; it 
 nearly drives me mad to be by myself for an hour." She 
 got up, moved to the window, then back to the chair, 
 snatched up a magazine, and began to hum a popular 
 air. Marie was never still, never quiet. "It's my tem- 
 perament, I suppose." She had an idea that restlessness 
 was an indication of the artistic temperament, and there- 
 fore she made no effort to check her unquiet ways. 
 "Haven't you any cigarettes ?" she asked. 
 
 "Yes, over there under that red book," Evelyn an- 
 swered. 
 
 Marie ripped open the box and passed them to Evelyn, 
 who declined. 
 
 "I've never learned to like them," she apologised. 
 
 "You're lucky I couldn't live without them. What 
 do you think about our play ?" she asked suddenly. 
 
 "Do you mean how long it is going to last ?" 
 
 Marie nodded at her through the smoke. 
 
 "I haven't an idea. Miss Gaynor said last night that 
 it was nearly all paper in the house." 
 
 "I wonder how C. B. likes that? Of course, he is a 
 good loser, but he won't let it run on much longer." 
 
 "It's too bad, isn't it?" Evelyn was conscious that 
 Marie was trying to find out what inside information she 
 had. As a matter of fact Evelyn was as much in the 
 dark as the other members of the company. 
 
 She rarely saw Brandon. He was rushed just now, 
 getting out his road companies, away several days out of 
 each week attending openings. He had no time to give 
 to personal matters. 
 
 Evelyn thought little of him, but when she did it was 
 with a warm glow of gratitude in her heart, not only for 
 her present engagement, but for his having lifted her up, 
 given her some position and some hope for the future. 
 -258-
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 He had sent her word to have pictures taken and turn 
 them into the office. This morning a picture and a press 
 story about her had appeared in a leading paper. Evelyn 
 had not seen it, and Marie had not yet spoken of it, 
 though it was the cause of her visit. 
 
 "I hope we aren't going to close. I'm still in debt for 
 my clothes. It will be Thanksgiving before I am out of 
 the woods. I think C. B. might have helped me find my 
 gowns. You are lucky, not having to worry," she said, 
 turning to Evelyn. 
 
 "I have just as much cause for worry as you have," 
 Evelyn answered. 
 
 "You don't have to worry about jobs at least that's 
 what Morey put in the paper about you this morning." 
 
 "About me? I didn't see anything." 
 
 "Oh, there was a press story in the Telegraph that 
 Brandon had plans for you." Marie laid stress on 
 "plans." 
 
 "I must see it." Evelyn went to the telephone and 
 asked to have a paper sent up. But the newsstand was 
 out of the morning papers, and she was forced to wait 
 until she could go out to get one. 
 
 When she read it, her face flushed. It seemed so un- 
 real, and rather cheap. They wrote of her as if she were 
 a trick pony or a bale of goods, but it was part of the 
 game of "getting on," and one must learn to like it. That 
 night Brandon was on the stage, and, as he passed her, 
 he stopped to ask if she had seen the paper. 
 
 "Yes, I saw it this afternoon. I scarcely recognised 
 my unimportant self." 
 
 "Put a lot in about you later," he said. "Having a 
 good time these days?" 
 
 "Yes, and I'm so glad to be at work." 
 
 "That's the proper spirit" And he walked on, but 
 with the memory of her eyes stirring his blood, and the 
 faint, seductive fragrance of orris in his nostrils. 
 
 259
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 Brandon said to himself that he would be glad when 
 the grind let up. Just now he was so infernally busy, 
 and then she was a nice little thing, he didn't want to 
 frighten her. He was no brute, no beast; he really 
 wanted her to like him. By lifting a hand he could have 
 any one of many women. He saw it in their eyes, in 
 their efforts to attract him, to arouse in him some personal 
 interest. All of this he knew was because of his posi- 
 tion, his ability to help them along. But these women 
 repelled him he must have romance and tenderness, and 
 he wanted to be the pursuer. 
 
 At one time his wife had been the only woman in his 
 heart, but she had been a hopeless invalid for five years, 
 and though he thought of her with great sympathy and 
 gentleness, she had entirely drifted out of his active life. 
 He surrounded her with every luxury, every care, and he 
 never forgot her, but he was a man, full-blooded, imagin- 
 ative, romantic, even sentimental, and the woman element 
 was an absolute necessity to him. 
 
 "What a quaint, sweet thing she is," he said to himself, 
 as the memory of her eyes and the fragrance of orris 
 remained with him. 
 
 "Good loser" though he was, Brandon had no inten- 
 tion of financing an unprofitable venture, and the second 
 week of October he had a notice placed on the call board 
 saying that "The Holdover" would close its New York 
 run in two weeks and leave at once for Chicago to open 
 the day before Election Day. 
 
 This was good news to the company, who had feared 
 that the end of the New York run would mean the store- 
 house for the production. But at least it was to be given 
 another chance, and it was a well-known fact that Chi- 
 cago, with characteristic independence, often set the seal 
 of its approval on a New York failure. 
 
 Marie Eggleston burst into Evelyn's dressing room 
 full of the pleasant news. "It's fine, isn't it? I was 
 260
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 afraid we were going to close. I think Chicago will like 
 this piece, don't you?" Then, without waiting for an 
 answer, Marie rushed on. "Where do you live in Chi- 
 cago ?" 
 
 "I have lived many places, but if I go I shall probably 
 stay out on the South Side." 
 
 "Why, aren't you coming?" Marie asked. 
 
 "I suppose so, but I'm not sure." 
 
 "Oh, tell me what you are going to do ?" 
 
 "I haven't any plans, really." Evelyn was annoyed 
 with herself for the slip she had made. She had not 
 intended to give Marie any further cause for suspicion. 
 And in truth she had heard no word from Brandon about 
 the part he had promised her in the new play. 
 
 She knew, as every one around the theatre did, that it 
 had not gone into rehearsal, but whether he remembered 
 his promise she had no way of knowing. 
 
 Of only one thing was Evelyn sure. She would not 
 remind Brandon, she would go on with the company, fail- 
 ure though it was, and apt to close any time, throwing 
 her back in New York to begin the old struggle. But 
 that must be if it must. He knew that she was here, and 
 if he wanted to remember he would deep in her she 
 felt that he had not forgotten. 
 
 The week wore on, and no word came from him. He 
 was twice on the stage during the week, and though he 
 spoke to her, there was no mention of his promise. In 
 the face of this Evelyn made her preparations to go on 
 with the company to Chicago. But coming into the thea- 
 tre for the Saturday matinee she found a note asking 
 her to come up to the office after the performance. 
 
 He had not forgotten her ! Then, with a sudden reac- 
 tion, she wished that he had. She knew what it meant 
 the old, terrible, uncertain life, or a new one a very 
 new and strange one. 
 
 After the matinee Evelyn dressed, very glad that she 
 
 261
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 had worn to the theatre her suit just home from the 
 tailor, and a new soft crepe blouse that opened low in 
 front, and broke the severeness of the coat with its deep, 
 drooping frills. On her way around the block she bought 
 a gardenia from a street vender. 
 
 It was five o'clock when she reached the office. It was 
 deserted save for the telephone operator. 
 
 "Is Mr. Brandon in?" 
 
 "He sees people in the morning," was the laconic reply. 
 
 "I had a note asking me to come in at this time." 
 
 "What's the name?" 
 
 "Miss Lane." 
 
 The girl announced her over the telephone. "Go right 
 in," she said. 
 
 Brandon was seated at his desk as she came in. He 
 looked up and smiled at her. 
 
 "I'm going out of town to-morrow ; this was my only 
 chance to see you." 
 
 "I thought you had forgotten me." 
 
 "Weren't you going to remind me?" 
 
 "No." Then she added, "I thought you knew best." 
 
 "Well, now it's up to you. The new play, 'The Heart 
 of Olga,' goes into rehearsal next week. Do you want 
 to stay, and take your chance with it, or go on with this 
 play? There is a part in it that ought to establish you, 
 and, of course, double your present salary." 
 
 Evelyn's eyes were lowered. His meaning was plain. 
 She had a sudden wish to flee from him, then she braced 
 herself and looked in his eyes. 
 
 "What do you want me to do?" she asked. 
 
 He rose from his chair and came to her, took one hand 
 in his, and lifted her to her feet. "I want you to stay 
 stay a long time." 
 
 "Then I will," she whispered, and crept into the circle 
 of his arms like a tired child that had found a resting 
 place. 
 
 262
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 He took her chin, and raised her face to him. "I'm 
 mad about you! You know that, don't you?" he asked 
 hoarsely, vehemently. 
 
 "I'm glad," she answered in her cool, breathless way. 
 
 He drew her to him in a swift, stifling embrace, and 
 between the kisses that rained on her face he whispered, 
 "I'll be good to you always always." 
 
 That night after the performance Evelyn stepped into 
 a waiting taxi and was driven to an apartment building 
 that overlooked Gramercy Park. She dismissed the 
 chauffeur, let herself in the outer door with a latch key, 
 ascended two flights of stairs, and with another key 
 opened the door of an apartment. 
 
 Evelyn pressed a button at the right of the door, and 
 soft, beautifying lights revealed a living room, charming 
 and simple in its decorations and furnishings. Beyond 
 was a dining room, then a pantry, a small kitchen, and a 
 maid's room. Returning to the living room she looked 
 about, then opened the door at her right. Here the 
 decorator had achieved his best results. It was a lady's 
 bower beautiful and inviting. 
 
 This was her new home the first home she had ever 
 had ; lovelier than she had ever hoped for, but 
 
 "He knew from the first I would come," she whispered 
 to the surrounding beauty. "I've been coming a long 
 time, and now I'm here well " 
 
 There was a faint buzz over the front door. Evelyn 
 paused a moment, then walked resolutely over and opened 
 it. 
 
 "Well, how do you like your nest, my pretty one? It 
 was built for you." 
 
 "You knew " 
 
 "I hoped, and I'm always willing to take a chance." 
 
 "It's wonderful." And again she slipped into the circle 
 of his arms. 
 
 263
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 He buried his face in the soft, fragrant hair, and, 
 stirred to an ecstasy beyond words, he lifted her in his 
 arms and bore her towards the door to the right. 
 
 Daylight was peeping into the room when Evelyn 
 woke. She stared about, wondering at her strange sur- 
 roundings; then the sound of deep breathing came to 
 her, and she remembered. She crept out of bed, out of 
 the room into the living room. 
 
 Here it was stranger still. The coat and hat thrown 
 on a chair, the Sunday Telegraph that he had brought in 
 with him lying on the table it, at least, was a familiar 
 thing. Evelyn glanced down at it, and there, as though 
 Fate had drawn a black line around it so that she could 
 not miss it, was the following: 
 
 "The Actors' Fund appealed to for funds to bury 
 Actor." 
 
 and under this headline: 
 
 "The Mayor of Bloomington has wired the Actors' 
 Fund for money to bury Robert Waters, who died 
 in that town on Friday morning. Waters was a 
 member of the Haviland Repertoire Company, and 
 was left behind on account of illness when the Com- 
 pany departed last Saturday." 
 
 Evelyn read it again, and again. Bob was dead! 
 Alone, without friends and money, and he had been her 
 husband. Her husband now she was free! Freedom 
 had always meant Hubbard. She could go to him, be 
 with him forever! He loved her, she loved him, and 
 then, sweeping over her in a wave of horror was the 
 realisation. She couldn't go to him ; he would not want 
 her now. She had wiped out that chance for all time. 
 "Evelyn," a voice called out, "where are you ?" 
 "Here," she answered hysterically, "I'm coming I'm 
 coming !" 
 264
 
 CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE 
 
 HEART OF OLGA" went into rehearsals the 
 A first week in November, and as it was Brandon's 
 most important production, he gave it his entire time 
 and attention. The best cast possible was assembled, 
 the scenery ordered without regard to expense, and the 
 whole put into the hands of a director famous for his 
 sensational effects. 
 
 The play, a powerful melodrama adapted from the 
 Russian, had enjoyed great success abroad. It told the 
 story of Olga, a member of an anarchistic society, who 
 had vowed to devote her life to the cause of Freedom. 
 The one weak spot in Olga's character was the love of a 
 young sister. The climax of the play was Olga's dis- 
 covery that a deep love existed between this sister and 
 a powerful nobleman who had been picked as the next 
 victim of the Society. It closed with the tragic death of 
 Olga and the triumphant love of the sister and her be- 
 trothed. 
 
 The leading role was entrusted to Anna Vronsky, a 
 Russian who had been acting in America for the past 
 two seasons. She spoke careful, exquisite English, and 
 had a method and temperament that made her the ideal 
 woman for the part. 
 
 Evelyn was the young sister, and, though it was not a 
 great acting role, it gave her a chance for the appeal of 
 her beauty and personality. 
 
 The whole cast was made up of men and women with 
 metropolitan reputations. Evelyn was the least known 
 member of the organisation, but during the rehearsals a 
 press campaign was set on foot in her behalf that brought 
 her well before the eyes of the theatre-attending public. 
 
 265
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 The rehearsals swept on to her. The work at the thea- 
 tre was pleasant and any sensitiveness that she might 
 have felt, knowing to what her position was due, was 
 wiped out by the attitude of her co-workers. They were 
 as friendly as she permitted them to be. She knew that 
 Brandon would not approve of her close association with 
 the members of the company, and, too, she could not have 
 friendly relations at the theatre, and then exclude them 
 from her home life. And neither she nor Brandon 
 wanted any one brought into their intimate life he 
 through jealousy, she through pride. 
 
 Evelyn saw very little of Brandon during these first 
 days, for his time was consumed with the work of launch- 
 ing the play. She depended for companionship on a 
 maid he had provided a silent, valuable woman who 
 relieved her of every material care. 
 
 She was not lonely. The new life had so many 
 interests that little time was left for thought or reflec- 
 tion. After the cheque had been sent which covered 
 Bob's last needs, she resolutely wiped out the past and 
 set her face towards the future the brilliant, rosy fu- 
 ture! 
 
 The rehearsals consumed most of the day, but there 
 was an hour's intermission for luncheon, and as Evelyn's 
 apartment was so far down town, she lunched at the 
 hotels near the theatre. Her favourite grew to be the 
 great stone and brick pile at which she had looked long- 
 ingly when she lived in a bleak hall bedroom on Forty- 
 fifth Street. Often she took with her a shy girl who 
 was playing a small part in the play, and in whose eyes 
 Evelyn saw a look whose meaning she knew well. 
 
 It was wonderful to live in luxury; fine to be able to 
 do for others less fortunate, and what though life still 
 was incomplete one could not ask for everything, and 
 at least she had what she had wished for through the 
 lean years freedom from financial worry. 
 266
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 After the day's work was done, she shopped or drove, 
 and practised the art of fine living that she had learned 
 from Hale Johnston. Then there was dinner, more often 
 at home since it was not advisable for her to be seen 
 with Brandon in public; besides, he was at that stage 
 of his infatuation when he wanted her all to himself. 
 
 Evelyn soon learned that beneath the calmness and 
 suavity of Brandon's exterior a ferocious jealousy lurked, 
 ready to spring to the surface on the least provocation. 
 His passion was consuming, insatiate, and at times ab- 
 ject in its devotion. He demanded everything, and was 
 ready in return to give without stint. 
 
 And whatever deep secret repulsion Evelyn may have 
 felt and in spite of a great loss, she was not unhappy. 
 The days and evenings with the resources of the great 
 city to draw upon passed swiftly, and all too soon she was 
 home and waiting. 
 
 Now, for the first time, she was able to gratify the old 
 wish for music, more especially for opera, which dated 
 from the night she dined at the little French restaurant, 
 and heard the enthusiastic young Henri out on his hobby. 
 He had advised her to see Carmen first, and she remem- 
 bered passing the great, sombre Opera House on her 
 way home, and pausing to wonder if ever she, clad in 
 soft silk, and breathing forth a rare fragrance, would 
 step from her car and enter the doors of the Temple of 
 Music. She had never tried to go during the old, hard 
 days, not even when she and Bratton were friends. Her 
 clothes were never fit, and she had always wanted to keep 
 the picture complete never to go in until time and cir- 
 cumstance fulfilled her early imaginings. 
 
 Now they were fulfilled in a way that she never 
 dreamed, and she spent her happiest hours here. She 
 forgot everything, lived in a different world, communed 
 with different spirits. It answered more completely than 
 anything ever had the craving of her beauty-seeking soul. 
 
 267
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 But opera and all other interests were wiped out as 
 the opening of the play drew near. There were long, 
 exhausting rehearsals. Neither Anna Vronsky nor the 
 Producer knew what it was to tire, and though the less 
 interested members of the company complained, the 
 hours were not shortened. 
 
 Then a week before the opening date the leading man 
 was taken ill, and Brandon was forced to look for a 
 substitute. To find a man with a reputation who fitted 
 the part was no easy matter, and two precious days were 
 lost. The next morning, as Evelyn walked on the stage, 
 she was surprised to come face to face with Gordon 
 Wayne. 
 
 "Well," he said, "this is a surprise!" As he shook 
 hands with her there was frank admiration in his eyes. 
 Never had he seen a little girl bloom out so what was 
 it? 
 
 "It is good to see you, and I'm so glad you've come to 
 help us out." 
 
 "I wonder if I can. It's an awful part ; sixty sides to 
 get up in a week, or rather five days," he said. 
 
 "I know, but it suits you, and you'll enjoy working 
 with Madame she won't try to teach you how to act a 
 la Hartwell." 
 
 "Will you ever forget her magnificence? Poor Win- 
 nie ; these are sad days for her her new play is a flivver." 
 
 "Yes, I saw it. She looked well " 
 
 "But she can't act," Gordon said with a laugh. "I'm 
 glad to see you coming along so well. I saw you in 'The 
 Holdover' and you were very charming." 
 
 "I had only a wee part. The one I have now is the 
 best I've ever had, and I'm a bit afraid of it." 
 
 "Oh, don't be afraid. Just dash into it." 
 
 "How is your brother?" she asked suddenly. 
 
 "He is fine. We saw you together in 'The Holdover.' " 
 
 "Yes?" Evelyn asked. 
 268
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 "Some day I'll tell you what he said about you. I'm 
 afraid you couldn't stand it so early in the morning." 
 
 "How long has he been home from abroad I mean ?" 
 
 "Since August. He is going to meet me at the Knick- 
 erbocker for lunch. Won't you come too ? It would be 
 such a jolly surprise for him." 
 
 "I should love to," she said impulsively, and then she 
 caught Brandon's eye. He had taken his usual seat in 
 the orchestra to witness the rehearsal. She knew that 
 his gaze had been upon her during the whole of this con- 
 versation, and there was a darkening in the depths of his 
 inscrutable eyes. 
 
 "I should love to go," Evelyn repeated, "but I have 
 another engagement. Remember me to him; I always 
 think of you both with so much pleasure and gratitude." 
 
 She passed on, leaving him to study the long part of 
 Ivan. Meeting him had stirred to life old memories. 
 The flight from Bratton Hubbard's letter had not saved 
 her, it had only postponed the hour of yielding. 
 
 Gordon Wayne had caught the look between Brandon 
 and Evelyn, and that, with the part she was playing, and 
 the attitude of the company towards her, made the situa- 
 tion clear to him. 
 
 "Rotten business," he said to Bratton when they met 
 for lunch. "Girls like that haven't a chance ; that is, but 
 one chance. With no will, no especial talent, nothing but 
 a sex appeal that pulls them up, and then ye gods, what 
 a falling off!" 
 
 Bratton never came about the theatre, but he was on 
 for the opening in Springfield, and he and Evelyn met. 
 There was a brave attempt to renew the old friendly 
 relation, but Brandon's shadow fell long between them. 
 
 Then came the opening in New York, and the play 
 was the enormous success Brandon had expected. 
 Once again he had struck the popular favour. The critics 
 
 269
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 were lavish in their praise of the production and of 
 Madame Vronsky's acting. 
 
 "An exotic and dramatic personality expressing itself 
 through a rare and finished technique," one said. An- 
 other that she was "a supreme artist ; no American actress 
 could have touched the role." 
 
 And next in the favour of the reviewers was "an al- 
 most unknown young woman of ethereal beauty who 
 played with a naturalness and simplicity all too rare in 
 young actresses. She was the ideal younger sister." An- 
 other paper said, "Paler, simpler than the great Russian 
 actress, but no less effective was Miss Evelyn Lane. 
 Manager Brandon has shown his usual astuteness in 
 casting the play." 
 
 Evelyn read the notices, propped up in bed. The 
 breakfast tray stood by untouched. Martin had just 
 brought it in with the morning papers. She read the no- 
 tices feverishly, passing from one to the other and back 
 again. She looked about her room the beautiful room, 
 a bower of flowers now the offerings of last night. So 
 many people had remembered her; Brandon, of course, 
 Gordon Wayne, and Bratton, too. A wonderful box of 
 roses had come with the card of Hale Johnston, and 
 Mary Leighton had sent violets. 
 
 Dear Mary she must be somewhere in the city, wait- 
 ing so bravely and so patiently for her chance. Would 
 it ever come? Evelyn doubted it. In her heart she did 
 not believe that chances ever came save as hers had. She 
 must find Mary and do what she could. 
 
 A good part in a Broadway success this is the dream 
 and hope of every member of the profession. This the 
 stepping stone to greatness and prosperity ; this the lure 
 that leads so many on through the long, lean years, keeps 
 hope burning through months of idleness and weeks of 
 dreary rehearsals. This is the end the thing that shall 
 repay, and now it had come to Evelyn. 
 270
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 She was young, successful, loved. She was inter- 
 viewed, photographed, and advertised. Her picture ap- 
 peared in the Sunday Supplements, her eyes questioned 
 from magazine covers, and a fashionable firm copied her 
 third act gown, putting it on the market as "The Evelyn 
 Dancing Frock." 
 
 The days, the weeks, the months flew by with no sub- 
 sidence of the tides of happiness and excitement. 
 
 Brandon was more devoted than ever; more deter- 
 mined to make her in time a full-fledged star ; more to- 
 tally oblivious to all other women than he had been in 
 the beginning. He was lavish in his treatment of her; 
 he encouraged her in every extravagance. All her native 
 taste for dress flowered; all her gravitation towards 
 luxury hurled her quiveringly into the excesses of the 
 new life. She shed the old, quiet, shrinking nature. She 
 was gay and confident. The chrysalis had burst and the 
 butterfly was on the wing. 
 
 "The Heart of Olga" grew in popularity as the season 
 went on, and other cities were clamouring to see the 
 play on which Broadway had set its unequivocal ap- 
 proval. Brandon decided to send a Number Two Com- 
 pany to Chicago for the summer. 
 
 As the first rumour of the possibility of a new com- 
 pany reached Broadway, Brandon's office was besieged by 
 actors and actresses eager for parts. The prospect of 
 an all-summer run in Chicago made them fierce and in- 
 sistent in their importunings. In his dealings with them, 
 Brandon was kind and considerate. He saw as many of 
 the applicants as was possible, and answered letters. But 
 the play was practically cast since he was desirous of fill- 
 ing it with types that would reproduce as far as possible 
 the New York company. 
 
 It was an easy matter to find a substitute for every one 
 but Anna Vronsky. Her peculiar appearance, her un- 
 
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 The Least Resistance 
 
 usual method and emotional power made her a person- 
 ality so unique that it was difficult to find an actress who 
 even suggested her. 
 
 "The play doesn't depend on her at all," Brandon said 
 to Evelyn one evening over the dinner table. "It would 
 have gone over without her, but I can't see any one in the 
 part but a woman of her type." 
 
 "That old type business," Evelyn answered. 
 
 "It is a very important matter." 
 
 "Oh, I know, but in the old days it broke my heart." 
 
 "You poor little thing; the idea of you " And 
 
 then, because he was under the spell of her charm, he 
 forgot the casting of the play, and the talk was of other 
 things. 
 
 But when the dinner was over and he was standing 
 before the open fire in the living room Evelyn brought 
 up the matter again. 
 
 "C. B.," she began in her most beguiling voice, "don't 
 you want me to tell you about a girl who could play 
 Olga just as well as Madame? She has just as much 
 power and poise, and she has worked so hard, and is 
 so deserving " 
 
 "And she hasn't a shred of reputation." 
 
 "Oh, well, you could manage that. You know," she 
 said shrewdly, "an unknown woman would be better 
 than one with some reputation." 
 
 "That isn't a bad idea. I didn't know you were such 
 a keen little business woman." 
 
 "Mary this girl, would be wonderful in the part. 
 And you could make her well known in a short time." 
 She slipped her arms over his shoulders and looked up 
 in his face. "You said yourself it was the play, not the 
 woman. But Mary Leighton looks it, and she is wonder- 
 ful. Let her rehearse it for you. Won't you, please 
 forme?" 
 
 "What kind of an actress are you ? Plugging another 
 272
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 woman's game instead of your own. Most of them would 
 have asked for the part for herself." 
 
 It was Evelyn's chance and she took advantage of it. 
 She pulled his face down to hers and kissed him. "You 
 big, old dear, I don't want it it would take me away 
 from you." 
 
 There was a leap in his eyes, and his arms tightened 
 about her. 
 
 "I don't want to meddle, C. B., but I do so want her 
 to have her chance she was so good to me." 
 
 And so Mary Leighton's chance came to her. The 
 theatrical world wondered why an unknown woman was 
 given precedence over so many distinguished actresses 
 who were idle and who would have been glad of the 
 engagement. 
 
 But after Brandon had seen Mary rehearse he realised 
 that she fitted the part as few better known women would 
 have done. His press agent was put to work imme- 
 diately, and a waiting world was told that a new star 
 had arisen. That, after vain efforts to find a suitable 
 Olga, this unknown girl had come forward and so im- 
 pressed Manager Brandon that he intrusted her with this 
 all-important role. 
 
 Evelyn attended the dress rehearsal, which was held 
 just before the company left for Chicago. She sat in the 
 dim theatre filled with a tender, motherly pride that Mary 
 was rising so wonderfully to her opportunity. 
 
 She heard the clear, vibrant voice, the clean-cut dic- 
 tion; saw the ease and grace of her movements, and 
 watched the definite mental conception body itself forth 
 through an elastic technique. Apparently Mary was fol- 
 lowing the interpretation of the Russian actress, but 
 where the other had leaped into the big scene with tiger- 
 ish ferocity that stirred her audience almost to cheers, 
 Mary rose to a spiritual height, tense, restrained, suggest- 
 ing so much more felt than expressed, and then the last
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 tragic note that rose far above the sensationalism of the 
 Russian into the ratified atmosphere of great acting. 
 
 The years of hard work in the wild melodramas had 
 developed a facility and a technique, and the stern dis- 
 cipline of her life had given her the power to use this 
 training to good ends rather than to be mastered by it, 
 and when her great chance came, she was ready for it. 
 
 The old ironic aspect of Fate that Evelyn had sensed so 
 often without being able to define it came to her again 
 and again as she watched the rehearsal. She almost 
 wished that Mary had not been given this chance, that 
 she had waited and wrung it from life through her 
 own high value. But would the years of patient labour 
 have achieved so golden an opportunity as this which had 
 come through frail Evelyn's influence? 
 
 But these questions soon passed from Evelyn's mind, 
 and her ability to have given Mary her great chance 
 justified to her completely her relation with Brandon. 
 When she had worked, suffered, sacrificed, and held true 
 to the code, she had never been able to help any one, and 
 now, with a few words, she had given Mary the only 
 thing she needed an opportunity. 
 
 At the fall of the last curtain Evelyn rushed back to 
 the dressing room, and the two girls were locked in a 
 swift, understanding embrace. 
 
 "Oh, Mary, you are wonderful wonderful. I always 
 knew it !" 
 
 "Think of playing a part like this think of this chance. 
 I had almost begun to believe it wouldn't come." 
 
 Brandon was at the door holding out his hands. "Well, 
 young lady, you've landed on both feet. You are a great 
 actress, Miss Leighton." And he shook her hands 
 heartily. 
 
 "Mr. Brandon, I can never thank you for this chance. 
 There aren't any words to tell you what it means to me." 
 
 "Well," he answered lightly, "when you get ready to 
 274
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 pay your commission it goes to this child she picked 
 you for the part." He looked at Evelyn, and his secret 
 was easy to read. 
 
 "Oh!" Mary said, and the new light died out of her 
 eyes as she realized the situation. 
 
 Something else claimed Brandon's attention, and he 
 hurried away. The two women were left facing each 
 other. 
 
 "I tried, Mary, I tried everything else. He is good, and 
 I am fond of him. Don't think " 
 
 "I don't think anything except that you are the sweet- 
 est, finest But, oh, the pity of a girl like you " 
 
 "It's the only way, Mary, at least for a girl like me. I 
 haven't your talent, nor your health, nor your will. It 
 was the only way " 
 
 "Oh I wonder " Three months ago Mary would 
 
 have cried out indignantly: "It is not the only way!" 
 Now the best answer she could make was, "I won- 
 der " And the last drop in her cup of triumph was 
 
 bitter. 
 
 The second company went to Chicago for an all-sum- 
 mer run. There it reproduced the New York success, 
 and Mary was hailed as the American Bernhardt. There 
 was not a young actress in America who had her tech- 
 nical skill or her emotional power. Brandon was called 
 the theatrical Columbus the Discoverer of American 
 Talent. 
 
 "Isn't it wonderful, C. B.?" Evelyn said to him one 
 evening when he had brought the Chicago papers for 
 her to see. 
 
 "Yes, and just think what a good little judge you were 
 of acting." His large, firm hand stroked the soft hair. 
 "I think you should put in a claim for a large reward." 
 
 "What could I ask for? I have everything." She 
 laid her head on his shoulder. She tried to fancy that 
 she loved him ardently, deeply. He was strong, kind 
 
 275
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 and generous. It was her duty to care for him, but she 
 couldn't learn to care. In truth, he bored her a bit with 
 the unvarying routine of his lovemaking. 
 
 The approbation given a good child, the conventional 
 petting, the birth of desire, and the ferocity of aroused 
 passion the routine never varied! He had only one 
 mood that brought with it change and subtlety. And as 
 Evelyn gave him slight cause for jealousy that mood was 
 rare. At times she was tempted to provoke it. To see 
 him sullen, sombre, violent, and through it all suffering, 
 gave her a queer, ecstatic sensation. 
 
 "You do everything for me, C. B.," she repeated, "so 
 I can't think of a reward to ask." 
 
 "Then I'll think of it for you. You are to retire from 
 the cast, and sail for France the first of next month. I'll 
 meet you over there a week later." 
 
 "You couldn't have thought of anything more per- 
 fect!" 
 
 Evelyn sailed the first week in July, accompanied by 
 the silent, valuable Martin. It was her first trip abroad, 
 and she was thrilled with the excitement of it. 
 
 The sojourn in the French capital was a time of 
 change and development with Evelyn. Daily hundreds 
 of new impressions flowed in, and registered on her re- 
 ceptive mind. Preeminently adaptable, she rapidly as- 
 similated the spirit and atmosphere of her new sur- 
 roundings. She went diligently to the theatres to ob- 
 serve the acting and deportment of the French actors. 
 She "did" the art galleries and palaces, and dined with 
 Brandon in all of the interesting and famous restaurants. 
 
 Evelyn met a number of distinguished people, chiefly 
 of her own profession. All of them treated her with sub- 
 tle respect, knowing her hold on the great Brandon. 
 Some of the men went farther, and evinced an open 
 admiration, and though this brought on scenes with 
 276
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 Brandon, it gave her a surer feeling of her power and 
 importance. 
 
 And then the dressmakers! Those "builders of 
 gowns," how they interested and delighted her ! She lin- 
 gered with them, stood for hours trying colour and line 
 effects. Her own excellent taste kept her from outre 
 and unbecoming clothes, and she commanded respect 
 with her talent for design and shade. 
 
 Her gowns accentuated every beauty and grace that 
 she possessed a languid, restful grace; a beauty frail 
 and fluctuating under the strain of her present life. 
 
 There were days when she was fresh and radiant, 
 others when a hat that shaded well her face was called 
 into duty to hide the shadows about the eyes, and the 
 pallor that came from depleted vitality. 
 
 Evelyn began to experiment with stimulants, hoping to 
 find something that would carry her through. She re- 
 sorted often to the dash of absinthe in the cocktail which 
 had been introduced to her by Hale. Often there was an 
 extra cocktail before she met Brandon for dinner, for 
 after a strenuous day she was scarcely a bright dinner 
 companion unless reinforced by artificial stimulation. 
 From the after-theatre visit to some gay night restaurant 
 she frequently returned to her hotel too weary for words, 
 collapsing on the bed, to be undressed and tucked in by 
 the waiting Martin. 
 
 "This can't go on," she said to herself one morning 
 when the night before had left unmistakable ravages on 
 her face. "Soon I'll be an old hag. Martin," she said 
 to the maid who entered with her breakfast, "I look aw- 
 ful this morning don't I ?" 
 
 "Can't you stay in bed to-day ? You need a rest, Miss 
 Lane. You haven't got a strong body, and you have 
 to be careful." 
 
 "You know," she said, studying her face in the mir- 
 
 277
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 ror, "I look like my Mother it's the first time I ever 
 noticed it." 
 
 "She died when you were a little girl, didn't she?" 
 Martin said, coming up behind her and stroking the 
 long, soft hair that hung in a braid to her knees. 
 
 "Yes a long time ago I wasn't quite fifteen." 
 
 "What was the matter with her?" Martin asked sym- 
 pathetically. 
 
 "Her lungs they called it 'galloping consumption/ " 
 There was a silence in the room, a tragic, ominous 
 silence. Martin's hand paused in its stroking, and Eve- 
 lyn unconsciously held her breath. She wheeled and 
 faced the maid. "You don't think there is anything the 
 matter with my lungs, do you, Martin?" 
 
 "No," the other answered. "No, Miss Lane," she re- 
 peated positively; "they are strong, I am sure, but you 
 must be careful not about your lungs, but just because 
 you aren't very hearty. There, there, you mustn't get 
 such thoughts in your head." 
 
 But the thought was in Evelyn's mind, and it bore 
 fruit, for there was less going about, simpler food, more 
 sleep, and an effort to do away with the use of stimulants. 
 She conserved her strength for the time she must spend 
 with Brandon, for a deep instinct made her hide from 
 him her lack of energy and vitality. 
 
 Brandon sailed for New York two weeks before Eve- 
 lyn's departure, in order to get his companies ready 
 for their fall openings. She was to reach home just in 
 time for the new play in which she was to play the 
 lead opposite a strong male star. 
 
 All of the extensive wardrobe that was required was 
 being made in Paris under her watchful eyes. She was 
 having clothes that would suit her, rather than sensa- 
 tional things that would advertise the French modiste 
 at the expense of caricaturing herself. 
 
 The two weeks that she was alone were weeks of rest. 
 278
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 She saw no one save Martin and the dressmakers, and 
 though at times spells of restlessness came over her, 
 she conquered them, and followed the programme that 
 would send her home in good condition for the season 
 before her. 
 
 So successful was this rest cure that when Brandon 
 met her in New York he declared that she "bowled him 
 over with her beauty"; and the ship reporters spoke 
 of the "beautiful Miss Lane" who had just returned from 
 Paris for an important part in a new production. 
 
 She was interviewed about Paris styles and how they 
 affected the American actress. She was photographed 
 in her fine feathers; and soon after her face decorated 
 the covers of all the theatrical magazines. 
 
 In the short space of a year, so active had been the 
 press campaign set on foot by Brandon, Evelyn was one 
 of the best-known actresses in America. 
 
 Shortly after her return her father and step-mother 
 arrived in New York. She entertained them with a 
 curious feeling that they were entire strangers, and 
 loaded them with presents for the two young children 
 at home. 
 
 The new play went into rehearsals, opened and failed, 
 New York not following London in its appreciation 
 of the drama. Evelyn was idle for a month, then opened 
 in another play, which, while not catching on to Broad- 
 way favour, was thought to have a chance on the road. 
 When it went on tour another girl was playing Eve- 
 lyn's part. She remained in New York, to open on 
 New Year's Day in a big melodrama. 
 
 It was Brandon's policy to keep her in New York 
 so that the general public might get well acquainted 
 with her. Then her first starring venture would ap- 
 pear as a legitimate step rather than a forcing prompted 
 by personal regard. 
 
 Through the playing of many parts Evelyn had im- 
 
 279-
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 proved greatly in acting. In certain roles she was most 
 effective. There was an unusual quality in her per- 
 sonality, a wistfulness and pathos that took the place 
 of power and distinction which she absolutely lacked. 
 Brandon wisely gave her such roles as fitted her tem- 
 perament, and the critics were kindly disposed towards 
 her, so that the general impression obtained that she 
 was a young actress of decided talent and possibilities. 
 
 But through this year of success and gaiety two per- 
 sons watched her with anxiety and foreboding the de- 
 voted Martin, and Mary, who was playing Olga in the 
 New York company which was holding its own in spite 
 of the withdrawal of the temperamental Russian. 
 
 The two girls were together a great deal; and Mary 
 tried to make Evelyn see the necessity for the conserva- 
 tion of her forces, but the poison of the new life was 
 in Evelyn's veins. She must go, see, do must make up 
 for the long, sordid, cramped years. Must fill her life 
 with beauty and excitement, a hidden, suppressed excite- 
 ment that scarcely showed itself above the surface of 
 consciousness. 
 
 There were times when she knew that she ought to 
 save money; ought to lay aside for that rainy day that 
 she felt instinctively was ahead. She made several 
 futile efforts to save, but the habit of spending was 
 strong upon her ; and luxury-soaked as she was, thoughts 
 of thrift grew daily more obnoxious. She fell back on 
 the slogan learned from Hale Johnston: "I've got to 
 take my chance." 
 
 Brandon's devotion justified this attitude, for with 
 possession had come no abatement of interest, but rather 
 an increase. What had been a sudden infatuation en- 
 gendered by her beauty, and sex appeal ripened into 
 a jealous, engrossing passion as her gentleness, her 
 sweetness, and inherent weakness gripped his virility. 
 There was about her a reservation, a mystery, an aloof- 
 280
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 ness even when she was nearest that puzzled, and at 
 times piqued, him. She demanded nothing, and it 
 aroused his impulse to give. She responded to his lav- 
 ishness with a gentle blooming which made her a pos- 
 session that satisfied not only desire, but pride. Her 
 fragile, exquisite beauty; her very languor, and lack 
 of vitality moved him as no radiant, vivid woman ever 
 had. And Evelyn, sensing this, let go her last hold on 
 actuality and drifted non-resistingly towards the future. 
 
 One afternoon in the early spring she and Mary sat 
 by a tea table in Mary's apartment which commanded 
 a sweep of the Park. 
 
 It was a pleasant, bright room with its soft tan walls ; 
 the wicker furniture upholstered in yellow flowered 
 chintz. On the tea table a tall vase held bright yellow 
 jonquils ; a piano stood open in the corner, and there 
 were Japanese prints on the walls; and everywhere 
 books. 
 
 Evelyn enjoyed the quiet afternoons here with Mary. 
 To-day they had been for a long ride in an open car 
 and the keen air had sent them home ready for tea. 
 
 They had been discussing a Galsworthy play which 
 had opened the night before. At least Mary had been 
 talking of it; Evelyn listened, her attention wandering 
 until Mary was aware that she no longer heard. There 
 was a long silence in which the older woman sur- 
 veyed anxiously the face of Evelyn, who was gazing 
 out of the window with a pensive, abstracted expression. 
 
 "Evelyn," Mary said at last, "are you taking good care 
 of yourself?" 
 
 "Yes at least I think so. Why, do I look a fright?" 
 
 "No, you are lovely to look at, but you do seem frail 
 this year, and a little apathetic." 
 
 "Apathetic?" Evelyn inquired. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Why, I'm going every minute." 
 
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 The Least Resistance 
 
 "But you don't want to go every minute. If you 
 didn't urge yourself or " 
 
 "Have a high ball," Evelyn finished in an even voice. 
 
 "Yes, just that you wouldn't move from that chair 
 for hours." 
 
 "Well, what can I do?" Evelyn asked, turning on 
 her. "Who's going to wait for me while I rest up? I 
 do try," she went on, "but I can't, and I'm just as well 
 as I ever was in my life, only now I have time to think 
 about it." 
 
 "And time and means to help yourself," Mary in- 
 sisted. 
 
 "I'm not sure that I want to help myself. Maybe 
 it's just as well to hurry on to the end. But I am 
 tired," she said wearily. "Oh, Mary, it is so different 
 from what people imagine it is!" And the best adver- 
 tised, most photographed young actress in America 
 dropped her head in her hands and cried with weary 
 abandonment. 
 
 283
 
 CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR 
 
 BUT this was a passing mood. Evelyn was too inher- 
 ently normal for prolonged depression, besides the 
 warm wind of adulation blew so continually on her that 
 the ego could not long hover about the zero point. It 
 conquered physical debility, and leaped up, sustained by 
 excitement and success. 
 
 It had been a prosperous year for Brandon, and Evelyn 
 shared his prosperity. His plan for her was a summer of 
 rest, and study in Europe to be followed by a starring 
 venture in the fall. 
 
 Ten years ago Evelyn would not have been considered 
 of stellar calibre, but public taste had changed. The 
 Junoesque blonde leading woman who ravished the eyes 
 during the first two acts, wept over her past in the third, 
 went sadly out of the lives of her virtuous friends in the 
 fourth, had passed from popular favour. Another type 
 of actress was on the crest of the wave. The heroic 
 blonde had known how to act, was probably the product 
 of long, arduous training, and knew all the tricks of her 
 trade. She could laugh musically, could languish, could 
 weep, aye weeping was her forte, and no audience ever 
 left the theatre dry-eyed. 
 
 But the new type depended on none of these things 
 for success. She had merely to be, and "to be" meant to 
 possess youth, slouching slenderness, beauty, and, above 
 all, personality. Tricks and technique were unnecessary. 
 A play was written around her, a company of competent 
 actors worked up the scenes for her, and she walked off 
 with the affections of the public, and the regard of the 
 managers. Evelyn was the type, and Brandon had 
 
 -283-
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 secured a play which had been the successful vehicle 
 of an English actress similar to her in appearance and 
 personality. 
 
 In June, Evelyn, accompanied by Martin, sailed for 
 Europe. She was to spend a month of rest in Switzer- 
 land, and the middle of July meet Brandon in Paris to 
 select her wardrobe for the forthcoming play. 
 
 The first weeks in Switzerland with the removedness 
 from her accustomed world, the farawayness from all 
 that pertained to the theatre, and as a substitute the magic 
 beauty of the blue lakes ; the solemn grandeur of the 
 guarding mountains ; the little excursions that she and 
 Martin made into quaint villages filled her with deep, 
 quiet joy. 
 
 But gradually the novelty wore off, and time hung 
 heavily enough on her hands. She hadn't the strength for 
 long tramps; no great love of reading; no aptitude for 
 study, and a shrinking from unknown people. Her mind 
 was forced to turn in on itself for entertainment but 
 entertainment was scarcely what it derived from these 
 excursions over its own domain. 
 
 The stretch of painful years that led up to her present 
 position the old days of privation and anxiety, far off 
 as they were, still hurt. Then old friends, Harmon, 
 Bratton, Hale, Hubbard, all gone out of her life. She 
 thought oftenest of Hubbard. There had been a quality 
 about him that gripped her, and kept him first in her 
 regard in spite of the lapse of time. He was the one man 
 who had loved her with any unselfishness; the only one 
 who would have loved her to the end, after passion was 
 spent, and youth gone. And since her present life sup- 
 plied everything but romance she clothed him in the 
 bright raiment of the ideal, and allowed a poignant 
 regret to envelope her whenever her mind dwelt upon 
 him. 
 
 The only link that bound her to the old days was her 
 284
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 friendship for Mary Leighton, and this friendship rested 
 on the memory of bygone times, and Mary's gratitude 
 for the chance that had been given her through Evelyn. 
 The two girls were diametrically opposed in their 
 thoughts and feelings. Mary, with face set resolutely 
 towards a goal, arriving each day nearer artistic perfec- 
 tion, flowering as actress, and as a woman ; Evelyn, 
 drifting farther from the actual, meeting without resist- 
 ance the pressure of events which now pushed her 
 towards success, but might at any moment, as she well 
 knew, hurl her into disaster. 
 
 "Acting" ' "parts" "interpretations," these were 
 words she used without any realisation of their true 
 meaning or importance. Often she said to herself that 
 if she were stronger in body and will she would care 
 more vitally for her Art. "But I don't care about Art, 
 I want a home, and husband and children " 
 
 There would be a fierce putting aside of this mood, 
 and a stern counting up of her present blessings. How 
 many women in her profession would give years out of 
 their lives for her hold on the all-powerful Brandon! 
 A wave of gratitude would sweep over her as she remem- 
 bered how good he had been to her. His regard was not 
 a common vulgar passion, but something finer, better. 
 Even his jealousy which isolated her from all companion- 
 ship save Martin's was not a hardship, since she cared so 
 little for people in general. 
 
 Sometimes she wondered how long his infatuation for 
 her would last, and what would become of her when it 
 had passed. Would she be so well established that other 
 managers would want her ? The long days gave her time 
 for many other questions, but they offered no solution 
 except one and that Evelyn could not adopt to save 
 money. Where could she begin? What could she do 
 without? It was disagreeable to think about it and she 
 turned to pleasanter matters. 
 
 -285-
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 Then one morning as she emerged from a shop where 
 one got the English papers she came face to face with 
 Bratton Wayne. 
 
 His surprise at seeing her was not so genuine as hers, 
 for he had heard from Mary Leighton, who was playing 
 a summer engagement in London, that Evelyn was in 
 Switzerland, and he had wandered about hoping 
 their paths would cross. But his pleasure over the 
 meeting was no greater than hers, for she had grown 
 weary of her own society, and restless and eager for 
 excitement. 
 
 "What a joyful surprise !" Evelyn said. 
 
 "Nothing so wonderful has happened in oh, ever so 
 long," he answered, as her hand rested in his. 
 
 "What are you doing here writing?" 
 
 "No, loafing," and as his hand released hers, "and 
 you?" 
 
 "Resting supposed to be at any rate. I am to be 
 thrust on a defenceless public as a star next fall and I'm 
 trying to get in good physical condition." 
 
 "Haven't you been well?" 
 
 "Yes, but a long winter in New York wears one out." 
 
 "Are you alone?" he asked, scarcely knowing how to 
 frame his question. 
 
 "Yes, except for the faithful Martin." 
 
 "Then may I claim you for lunch it would be such a 
 pleasure to me." 
 
 "And me quite like old times " 
 
 "When you used to say, 'Why, I should love to.' " And 
 he smiled at her. 
 
 "I should have gone hungry many a time but for 
 you," she said. 
 
 He made no answer, and they walked on in silence, 
 
 but by the time they were seated in a shaded corner of 
 
 the dining porch, and an urbane French waiter had 
 
 hovered over them suggesting this dish and that wine, 
 
 286
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 the restraint passed, and something of the quality of 
 their old pleasant comradeship returned. 
 
 "Now tell me about the starring venture," he said, 
 when the solicitous waiter had vanished. 
 
 "There isn't much to tell. We are just going to try it. 
 I really would like to wait another year, but Mr. Brandon 
 says 'no.' You know 'youth's for an hour,' and we must 
 take advantage of it." 
 
 "There is still enough left of that not to hasten the 
 advantage." 
 
 "Oh, I'm not sure," Evelyn answered, "if I had my hat 
 off I could show you a grey hair or two " 
 
 "That means nothing these strenuous days " 
 
 "It means that thirty is creeping on " 
 
 "And then what?" 
 
 "No man knoweth. But youth is then no longer one's 
 chief asset." 
 
 "The great American fallacy Unconquerable Youth. 
 It's a most pernicious doctrine. They call this the age 
 of young men ! You show me the men who are accom- 
 plishing things, and I'll show you men who have grey 
 in their hair and in their souls, too !" 
 
 "Yes, perhaps unless " 
 
 "Unless what?" 
 
 Evelyn shrugged her shoulders. "I can't express my 
 thoughts any better now than I could then." 
 
 "You have the same tantalising charm you had then 
 intensified," he added softly, as though not to her. 
 
 "It's good to meet you off here in Switzerland. With 
 nothing but strangers and the mountains, one feels a 
 very small, unimportant person," Evelyn said with a 
 smile. 
 
 "Perhaps that is good for you after a winter of success 
 and adulation." 
 
 "I remember," she said, with a little laugh, "that every- 
 thing is good for one, but you see I can't turn all of 
 
 287
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 my hopes, and fears, and experiences into profit as you 
 can." 
 
 "There are some that escape me," he said seriously. 
 
 She saw that he wanted to talk of the old times ; saw, 
 too, that he was willing for her to know that the loss 
 of her had been a blow, and as she dallied with the 
 food before her she began to speculate what her life 
 would have been had she gone with him. 
 
 Why had she been saved from him to be a short time 
 later hurled into the arms of Brandon? In reality, 
 Bratton Wayne offered her a life more congenial to 
 her temperament. Instead of the excitement and strain 
 of professional advancement, and the isolation of jeal- 
 ous control, there would have been freedom and the 
 pursuit of happiness and culture. Perhaps in time she 
 would have grown very fond of him. 
 
 Then Evelyn remembered his offer made in calmness 
 and with many reservations. If he made it again, would 
 it be in the same spirit? No, for she was different. 
 She understood men now as she had not in the old 
 days. She had an infinite capacity to play on those who 
 were attracted to her. It would be an easy matter to 
 re-claim him to lead him on. It would pass the time, 
 fill the days with excitement it would 
 
 Then a hot flush of shame passed over her. Had 
 she no longer any loyalty, any sense of honour? Was 
 this the deep truth of the world's dictum, that chastity 
 is the warp of a woman's character the other virtues 
 the woof destroy the warp and the fabric falls to pieces. 
 With terrifying clearness the thought came to her that 
 morality was something more than a convention estab- 
 lished in a man-ruled world, more than a shibboleth 
 of joyless Puritans it was the very stuff of life. For 
 the first time she felt that she had sinned; and a great 
 shame was upon her. 
 288
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 "What is it?" he asked, seeing the flush on her cheeks 
 and the bewilderment in her eyes. 
 
 "Nothing yes, something some time I shall ask you 
 a question." 
 
 "Not now?" 
 
 "No, not now, but another question now." She hur- 
 ried on to less dangerous ground. "When you were in 
 London, did you see Mary Leighton act?" 
 
 "Yes; why?" 
 
 "She is an old friend of mine, and I'm so proud of 
 her success." 
 
 "Yes, she is a great actress. Practically unknown 
 until a short time ago, wasn't she?" 
 
 "Yes, she and I did a melodrama together back in 
 the twilight of our youth." 
 
 "She has made an enormous success in London, and 
 you know such success is good for the theatre. I should 
 imagine that she had had a very hard time to win rec- 
 ognition, and not the type that receives much assist- 
 ance. It shows that the real stuff will win out in time 
 if it can stand the gaff " 
 
 "I wonder " Evelyn said thoughtfully. 
 
 "Of course I do, too, when I stop to think," he an- 
 swered with a whimsical smile that she thought charm- 
 ing, "but one likes to believe in the reward of virtue." 
 
 "I'm sure of its reward," she said with such sin- 
 cerity that he looked at her quickly. She flushed under 
 his glance, for it seemed as if some one else had spoken, 
 for until this very moment the hot cry of her heart had 
 been : "It's the only way." 
 
 They parted after luncheon with the promise that she 
 would dine with him. 
 
 "Little frail dancer in the Temple of Delight," he 
 mused after she had left him, "dancing yourself to- 
 wards destruction, and taking as many of us as you 
 can with you." 
 
 289
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 Bratton Wayne hurried to his hotel, and gave his man 
 instructions to pack up for leaving the next morning. 
 Then to bolster up his resolution he went for a long 
 walk. He gave his attention to the mountains, to the 
 grass and the flowers at his feet, to the passers-by ; stop- 
 ping to speak to red-faced children and shy mothers, 
 but as he walked on his interest in his surroundings 
 flagged, and face to face with a shining peak he said 
 aloud : "Women like that grip you and they can hurt 
 God, how they must have been hurt to have learned so 
 well the trick." 
 
 It was a new Evelyn that had burst in on the waiting 
 Martin, who had grown anxious as her absence length- 
 ened. There was colour in her cheeks, a light in her 
 eyes, and a lift in her usually apathetic voice as she 
 called out : "Here I am, Martin !" 
 
 The maid looked up from her sewing. "What is it 
 are you well, Miss Lane?" 
 
 "Well? I never felt better," she said as she threw 
 off her hat, and danced to a mirror. "I'm beginning 
 to get the good of Switzerland I'm almost pretty again 
 eh, Martin?" 
 
 "You are always pretty, but it's good to see you look 
 so well and happy." 
 
 "Yes, yes. I don't think it agrees with me to rest 
 too much and to be alone I need excitement." 
 
 "Did you see some one you know?" Martin asked. 
 
 "Yes, an old friend. I am going to have dinner with 
 him. What shall I wear? Lavender he used to like 
 lavender, or perhaps the only evening dress I had was 
 that colour and he was gallant. But I'll wear it that 
 Paquin shepherdess thing, and my little black hat and 
 earrings. Why, I feel like a girl going to her first 
 party !" 
 
 Martin moved about silently, following directions. 
 She was fond of Evelyn, but Brandon had engaged her, 
 290
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 and she must look out for the future. She had served 
 too many mushroom stars to have any faith in their 
 permanence, and with a widowed daughter and grand- 
 children to provide for, it behooved her to be loyal to 
 the greater purse. But Evelyn, all unconscious of this, 
 chatted away, planning for her evening appearance. 
 
 Bratton Wayne called for her at six, and it was a 
 radiant, exquisite Evelyn that sat by his side as the 
 motor-car whirled them up the mountain road to the Inn 
 selected by Bratton. 
 
 They dined on a porch that swept the mountain side 
 and looked across to white-capped peaks that glowed 
 in the last rays of the setting sun. The lovely twilight 
 shaded into night, and lanterns were lighted. Other 
 diners arrived; there was the buzz of talk; the hurry- 
 ing of attentive waiters, and golden wine poured in 
 bright, waiting glasses. 
 
 As Evelyn lifted her glass she glanced across to 
 Bratton. In his eyes she read flattering interest and 
 a desire to please her. A little ecstatic quiver flashed 
 over her this had been the lack of the past weeks. 
 She could no longer thrive alone, no longer do with- 
 out the stimulation of masculine admiration. 
 
 "You have changed," he said at last. 
 
 "In three years, who wouldn't ?" she asked. 
 
 "But more than that," he insisted. 
 
 "Two prosperous years after so many lean ones " 
 
 she suggested. 
 
 "Yes, that is true perhaps you haven't changed 
 it's just that the candle has been lighted." 
 
 "The unlit candle had no value," she said thought- 
 fully. 
 
 "It had possibilities " 
 
 Evelyn laughed a little sad laugh calculated uncon- 
 sciously to produce an effect on him. It was success- 
 
 291
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 ful, for a silence fell between them, a silence tense with 
 meaning, and delicious to Evelyn in its insinuation. 
 
 "I may not be a great actress," she was saying to 
 herself, during this silence; "I may not be intellectual 
 or even beautiful, but I do know men. I do attract, I 
 
 can hold I " The sense of her power thrilled her. 
 
 She knew instinctively what he expected of her; what 
 would grip him the old Evelyn saddened by conditions 
 that she could not comprehend, and looking back with 
 wistful regret to the days they had spent together, and 
 filled with gentle pain that they had lost each other. As 
 she formulated this theory of his attitude a faint smile 
 played about her mouth her sense of humour was 
 growing. 
 
 "How is the new book coming on ?" she asked at last. 
 
 "It is at a standstill. I've gone stale. Came to 
 Switzerland hoping " 
 
 "For inspiration?" 
 
 "Shall I be truthful?" he asked. 
 
 "I expect that of you always." 
 
 "In London, Mary Leighton told me that you were 
 here " 
 
 In the distance a group of peasants began to sing a 
 mountain song that called to sheep, that called to love. 
 The quaint lilting song cut through the blue night, the 
 yodelling woke the echoes. The chatter on the porch 
 ceased, the waiters moved even more quietly, pouring 
 the champagne. A boy in a picturesque costume passed 
 their table and laid an edelweiss before Evelyn. Brat- 
 ton Wayne handed him a coin. 
 
 "Nothing is unattainable," she said as she looked at the 
 flower. 
 
 Once home, Bratton countermanded his order to his 
 man. His departure was indefinite. 
 
 The days passed, days of pleasure, of delight, and 
 292
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 of reckless disregard of consequences. They motored to 
 nearby villages, rowed across the blue lake to explore 
 the picturesque grounds of a deserted chateau ; dined in 
 the evening on the porch that swept the mountain side. 
 And all the while Bratton's mind played about her in 
 the old searchlight fashion, making this phase clear, 
 commenting on that, speculating on other qualities that 
 refused to yield to his searching scrutiny. 
 
 And though his lips never framed the words, his 
 eyes said that she was fascinating, adorable, that he had 
 never ceased to regret her loss. There was an artistry, 
 a lack of violence about him that called into play all 
 of her own deftness and subtlety. Flirting with him had 
 all the charm of the transient and forbidden. When it 
 was over each would hold a sweet memory. If in his 
 there lurked a touch of sadness, compensation would 
 come in the book that it evoked. She would return 
 to the heavy engrossing passion of Brandon with a new 
 sense of power. 
 
 So Evelyn theorised during the hours that she was 
 alone, and when they were together she fenced skil- 
 fully to keep their relation well within the bounds of 
 her theory. 
 
 "You think ink flows in my veins," he said to her 
 one moonlight night as they sat on the piazza of her 
 hotel. 
 
 "Yes, and your index finger is a fountain pen !" And 
 there was a note of forced gaiety in her voice. All 
 evening she had been quiet, and thoughtful, and it had 
 required this thrust of his to arouse her to some sem- 
 blance of the Evelyn of the past week. 
 
 "Because I theorise, I don't feel?" he said, follow- 
 ing up the opening she had given him. 
 
 "Oh, you feel, but you enjoy your feelings ; I hate 
 mine," she said with a sudden vehemence. "Feelings 
 are only for big people, like Mary Leighton, who can 
 
 293
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 conquer them, or creative persons, like you, who can 
 make them profitable. But for the rest of us poor 
 mortals, the sooner we take an emotional anaesthetic 
 and have done with 'feelings' the better off we are." 
 
 "What a desperate theory for a young woman." 
 
 "Not desperate sensible." 
 
 "No, you aren't sensible," he said soberly; "you are 
 pitching headlong " 
 
 "To my doom? Well, didn't you once say it slept 
 in my eyes you see, I remember. But let's not be 
 serious. This is our last evening under the Swiss 
 moon." 
 
 "Our last evening?" 
 
 "Yes; I am going to Paris in the morning." 
 
 "Why ?" he asked, almost afraid of his question. 
 
 "I have been ordered there. The wire came while I 
 was dressing for dinner. Did you think that a suc- 
 cessful young actress on the eve of stardom was a 
 free agent?" She turned on him with mocking eyes. 
 
 "Don't get bitter, Evelyn Hope; it doesn't suit you," 
 he said gently. 
 
 "I am bitter! I'm sad desperate reckless!" She 
 had risen and was standing by the railing of the porch 
 looking out over the moonlit lake. "The world is so 
 beautiful; why should life be so hideous?" 
 
 "Listen." He came and stood by her. "I don't un- 
 derstand everything, but I know that you need to get 
 away from your present environment. Let me help you 
 just as a good friend, let me help you." 
 
 "I don't need any help," she answered. "I'm all 
 right; at least, things are all right. I'm not very well, 
 and apt to be hysterical, but" she turned to him with 
 outstretched hand "it's been good to see you here, and 
 thank you. Good night now, or rather good-bye." 
 
 In her room Evelyn found Martin packing the trunks. 
 294
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 No word was exchanged between the mistress and maid 
 until Martin offered to undress her. 
 
 "I can do it myself, you have other things to do." 
 A look passed between the two women, and in that look 
 Martin read that Evelyn knew who had betrayed her 
 to Brandon. 
 
 When she was ready for bed, she opened her travel- 
 ling bag and took from a compartment a sleeping pow- 
 der. She swallowed it, and crept into bed, pulling the 
 light cover close up under her chin. A convulsive shiver 
 swept over her body, and between the closed lids the 
 hot tears forced their way. 
 
 "I'll have the light out in a few minutes," Martin said 
 gently. 
 
 "It doesn't matter," Evelyn answered ; "I shall sleep." 
 
 295
 
 CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE 
 
 EVELYN and Martin arrived in Paris the next even- 
 ing after a hot, dusty, tedious journey. During the 
 early part of the trip Evelyn had sat huddled in her 
 corner, limp and depressed as usual after a sleeping 
 powder. Her heart beat with a slow, pumping rhythm, 
 and there was a numbness at the base of the brain which 
 crept higher and higher until a heavy drowsiness over- 
 came her. From this she would wake suddenly with 
 twitching nerves and accelerated heart action. 
 
 Later in the day her compartment was invaded by 
 three young girls from Detroit who, under the chaper- 
 onage of a handsome middle-aged woman, were "doing 
 Europe." Though one would not have known it from 
 their talk, for beyond a reference to a "darling Aus- 
 trian officer" they had met, their conversation was en- 
 tirely of persons and affairs in Detroit. To whom they 
 had written, from whom they had heard, what girls 
 were to make their debuts next year, and the "cases" 
 of their friends. Much time was spent trying to solve 
 the mystery of Howard Doty's charm why so many 
 girls had "a case" on him. Their voices were high- 
 pitched, and often the three were talking at the same 
 time. 
 
 The chaperone was immersed in a yellow-backed 
 novel, and apparently undisturbed by the chatter of 
 her charges. 
 
 For a while the girls amused Evelyn, but as the after- 
 noon waned, and there was no ebb in their flow of talk, 
 she grew nervous and irritable, and filled with dread of 
 the meeting with Brandon. 
 296
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 He was at the station waiting for her, and in re- 
 sponse to her greeting he lifted his hat and turned to 
 Martin with directions that she go ahead in the first 
 cab with the luggage. 
 
 With a half-anxious glance at her mistress, the maid 
 stepped into the taxi and was driven away. Brandon 
 led the way to the next cab, and as Evelyn followed 
 she watched him with a curious detachment. Even 
 after she was seated by his side, she could scarcely 
 realise that his gloom, his sullenness, and controlled 
 rage were directed against her. She seemed so very 
 aloof from him. 
 
 Through the long journey she had pictured many times 
 the meeting, and tried to formulate her line of action. 
 Should she be gay and unobservant of his mood, or sad 
 and repentant, or so alluring to his senses that he would 
 forget his grievance? 
 
 At the present moment she felt unequal to any role, 
 save that of languid indifference. But soon the very 
 warmth and humanness of the man close by her side at- 
 tracted her, and she had a desire to lay her head on his 
 shoulder and go to sleep like a tired child. 
 
 If only he wouldn't scold; if he would turn to her 
 with some gentle word, she would be so grateful to 
 him. Evelyn felt that if he spoke the right word, a 
 great, wonderful love would spring up in her heart for 
 him. Perhaps he would speak if she gave him a chance. 
 
 Then in a sudden flare of a street lamp she caught 
 a clear view of his profile. The lips were closed, the firm 
 jaw set, the sullen eyes staring ahead, and the powerful 
 hands clasped before him. With a sigh Evelyn sank 
 back in her corner here was no light mood to be dis- 
 sipated by an affectionate appeal. 
 
 It was a clear, warm summer evening, and as the car 
 sped down the tree-lined avenue, it seemed to Evelyn that 
 all Paris was out for an airing. Motor-cars filled with 
 
 297
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 gay parties whirled by; the sidewalks were crowded 
 with laughing, talking pedestrians; the open-air res- 
 taurants were doing a thriving business. Everywhere 
 there was an atmosphere of festivity, and through this 
 the taxi raced the gloom within setting it, in Evelyn's 
 mind, against all the joy of the world. 
 
 The car wheeled suddenly from the avenue, and 
 stopped before an imposing doorway. Brandon jumped 
 out, and assisted Evelyn, and when the chauffeur had 
 been dismissed he hurried her through a high-arched 
 doorway, up a flight of carpeted stairs. 
 
 In answer to a ring Martin opened the door, and 
 Evelyn stepped into the vestibule of a small apart- 
 ment. 
 
 "This is pretty am I to live here?" she asked, but 
 Brandon made no answer. 
 
 "That will do, Martin," he said to the maid. 
 
 Evelyn, standing in the centre of the room, caught in 
 a mirror over the mantel the almost beseeching look 
 with which Martin answered her dismissal. 
 
 "Well," he said the moment they were alone, "so you've 
 been playing tricks on me." 
 
 "Oh, C. B., am I to be scolded when I'm upset and 
 tired and hungry? Couldn't I have a bath, and sup- 
 per?" 
 
 "You are to answer my questions, and no acting now/' 
 
 "What questions?" she asked wearily. 
 
 "What have you been up to this past week ?" 
 
 "Nothing," Evelyn said, dropping into a chair. "I 
 don't know what you are talking about." 
 
 "Ah! can't I let you out of my sight for a moment 
 that some other man " 
 
 "Oh, C. B., there was no other man; there is 
 none " 
 
 "I happen to know better than that," he cut in. 
 
 "Oh, C. B., there is no other man " 
 
 298
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 "That Wayne fellow, wasn't he with you morning, 
 night, and noon for the past week?" he demanded 
 fiercely. 
 
 "No, he wasn't. He came by accident I met him 
 one morning and we went about a little. We were old 
 friends there was nothing disloyal in my seeing him." 
 
 "There never is anything, to hear you women talk. 
 You think I don't know you your type! The woods 
 are thick with your kind you can't go straight tell the 
 truth." 
 
 "C. B., you mustn't you " 
 
 "Oh don't you suppose I know all about you from 
 the time you were married on? I know all about Hale 
 Johnston. I suppose you mean to tell me that a woman 
 could have a friendship with him! The most depraved 
 man on the American stage; and you were intimate 
 with him for months and you pretend " 
 
 "Don't say such things to me they aren't true " 
 
 "Oh, yes, they're true! And the Wayne Brothers 
 both of them, and back on that vaudeville circuit " 
 
 "Don't you dare !" she cried, rising and facing him. 
 
 "Oh, yes, I will ! I know all about you some of your 
 old friends have been sending me anonymous letters 
 for a year, but I believed you with your damned soft 
 ways. And you've used me, young lady, right up to 
 the hilt but I'm on to you now! You are Broadway's 
 leading " 
 
 "No !" Evelyn cried, above the vile word. She started 
 towards the door, but he blocked the way. "Let me 
 out," she pleaded. 
 
 "You stay here," he said brutally. 
 
 "I can't," she said, gasping for air. "I must go " 
 
 "And where are you going this hour of the night?" 
 
 "I don't know oh, what does it matter? Let me 
 go!" She pushed feebly against him. 
 
 "You'll stay here you'll hear me out!" A new evil 
 
 290
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 light flamed in his eyes. "So he's followed you here 
 you want to go to him !" 
 
 The elemental man, so carefully concealed beneath the 
 calmness and suavity of his daily manner, leaped to the 
 
 surface. "You little ," again came the vile word, 
 
 and his hands closed about her slender throat in a vise- 
 like grip. Her head fell back, a gurgling sound issued 
 from her throat. Brandon's hands relaxed, and she 
 crumpled up at his feet with a white, lifeless face 
 turned up to his. 
 
 "Evelyn!" he cried in sudden alarm, dropping on 
 the floor by her. "Evelyn little one, I didn't mean " 
 He was passing his hands over her face, lifting her limp 
 hands to his lips, but there was no response. He picked 
 her up and laid her on a couch, then hurried to the 
 door to call Martin. 
 
 The maid hurried in, and dropping by the side of the 
 couch began chafing the cold wrists. 
 
 "Get some whiskey I'll do that," Brandon said. 
 
 They propped her up with cushions, forced the brandy 
 between her teeth. Martin loosened her hair, and her 
 clothes, took off her slippers and covered her with a 
 shawl; and a little later Evelyn opened her eyes and 
 looked about the room. 
 
 She was lying on a pink-and-gold couch facing long 
 French windows. A tall vase filled with pink roses 
 stood on a nearby table; there were some pictures on 
 the wall, and a large gilt mirror over the mantel. Mar- 
 tin was at the foot of the couch, and Brandon sat in 
 a chair drawn up at her side, holding her hand in his. 
 Her head shifted, and their eyes met. 
 
 "Evelyn," he said imploringly. 
 
 "It was the sleeping powder it always affects my 
 heart." 
 
 Brandon's head bowed over her hand, and Martin 
 tactfully left the room. 
 300
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 "Evelyn, little one, forgive me I was a brute- 
 
 She looked at him, wanting to speak, but it was 
 an effort that she felt unequal to just now. It was 
 more comfortable to lie quiet, and inert, and listen to 
 his halting words of love and contrition. And through 
 it all, with the abnormal mental activity that often 
 accompanies such lassitude, Evelyn was asking herself 
 a hundred questions. 
 
 What was she going to do? Brandon's jealousy had 
 often flared up over trifles, but never had she glimpsed 
 the brute in him until to-night. How ugly he had 
 been the piercing cruelty of the eyes, the thick trem- 
 bling lips, and the hideous words he had hurled at her! 
 And the anonymous letters the thought of them filled 
 her with a dumb terror, as though powerful, unseen 
 enemies were watching her, waiting for a chance to 
 strike her down. 
 
 If she followed the dictates of pride and left Bran- 
 don, where would she go ? Would other managers want 
 her, or was Brandon powerful enough to make it im- 
 possible for her to get work? Work the very thought 
 of it made her shiver. She wanted a rest, a long rest. 
 
 Then came thoughts of Bratton Wayne, and the night 
 spent under the Swiss moon. He had wanted her, had 
 offered, but now, after that last talk, he must despise 
 her, she who had gone, against every inclination, to 
 give an accounting of herself to her owner. And her 
 accounting was not accepted, she had been met with in- 
 sults and brutality. 
 
 And there was no escape. He was bending over her, 
 eager for a reconciliation, the slumbering passion ready 
 to leap into life at the least sign from her. And through 
 his abuse and fury he had wanted her, she had seen 
 it in his eyes, and had she not been so worn out from 
 the long day's journey, the scene might have been averted 
 by a quick appeal to his senses. 
 
 301
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 "Oh oh " A little protesting moan escaped her. 
 
 "Evelyn " He picked her up and, wrapping the 
 
 shawl about her, carried her towards the window. He 
 seated himself in a large arm-chair and held her in his 
 arms as though she were a little child. He kissed her 
 hair gently and whispered tender words in her ear. 
 
 "You must get well so that you can look over your 
 new home. It's a pretty little place and it's yours for 
 the month. It's Madame Marnet's apartment she's in 
 London for the summer. My little girl must get well 
 so that she can enjoy it, and Paris you love Paris 
 so many beautiful dresses here!" 
 
 She smiled faintly. 
 
 "I'm going to make you have a good time I love you 
 I love you !" 
 
 Her head drooped on his shoulder, and all resistance 
 went out of her body. After all, she was his. In his 
 arms she was warm and secure at least for a while. 
 The future didn't matter this summer evening in the 
 gay French capital. The questions ceased. One arm 
 slipped about his neck, and her face turned up to his. 
 
 "My darling my darling," he whispered as his lips 
 bent in a crushing kiss to hers. 
 
 30;
 
 CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX 
 
 FOR several days after Evelyn wore a soft, white 
 boa about her throat. Once when they were alone 
 Brandon took it off and kissed the blue line. They 
 never discussed the memorable evening, but Brandon 
 tried to make it up to her by acts of thought and lavish- 
 ness. 
 
 He gave her extravagance free reign, encouraging her 
 to buy everything that pleased her fancy. He was espe- 
 cially interested in the gowns that she was getting for 
 the new play, going with her to the final fittings, com- 
 menting and suggesting, showing how acute was his 
 feeling for artistic values. 
 
 Evelyn went out very little, for a suspicion had come 
 to Brandon that she was too frail for a summer of gaiety. 
 He wanted her to save her strength for the work ahead 
 of her. Since the moment that she had dropped at his 
 feet, lifeless and white, a new note had crept into his 
 devotion, and he watched over her with a protecting 
 tenderness as though she were a priceless, fragile 
 possession. 
 
 And Evelyn's response was a deepened sense of de- 
 pendence and security. It seemed that Brandon's love 
 was a cloak that would shut out forever the winds of 
 adversity. 
 
 In the mellowness of the days there was no room for 
 hard feeling towards Martin. Evelyn saw that she had 
 kept faith with Brandon even at the expense of be- 
 traying her mistress, of whom she was very fond. She 
 manifested her fondness in a hundred little ways that 
 the letter of their contract did not call for. She was 
 
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 The Least Resistance 
 
 never too tired, never too sleepy to respond gladly to any 
 demand; and she took every material care from her. 
 Evelyn admitted to herself with a little ironic smile that 
 she was too dependent on Martin to cherish any resent- 
 ment. 
 
 The month passed swiftly, and at its close Evelyn, ac- 
 companied by Martin and six trunks, sailed for New 
 York. Brandon went over to London to see Mary 
 Leighton, who was playing "Olga" in the English pro- 
 duction of the play and duplicating her American suc- 
 cess. He was to sail a week later from Liverpool to 
 reach home in time for the beginning of the re- 
 hearsals of "Millicent's Little Mistake," Evelyn's star- 
 ring vehicle. 
 
 Evelyn had a very delightful trip over. She found 
 herself a well-known young woman who aroused the 
 interest and curiosity of her fellow-travellers. Many of 
 them were eager to make her acquaintance, but she pre- 
 ferred the sunny, restful solitude of her deck chair and 
 her own thoughts of the stirring weeks ahead. 
 
 However, she chatted often with her nearest deck 
 neighbours, a Mr. and Mrs. Lawrence Strain. Mrs. 
 Strain, a slender, refined, sad-eyed woman, read inces- 
 santly books whose titles were familiar to Evelyn, hav- 
 ing seen them on Mary Leighton's table Ellen Key, 
 Charlotte Perkins Gilman and one morning she brought 
 up a new book by H. G. Wells. 
 
 "He is a vital, revealing question mark," she said to 
 Evelyn. 
 
 "It seems to me that's what life is," Evelyn answered ; 
 then added, "itot revealing, though." 
 
 "Possibly more revealing than we like to admit," Mrs. 
 Strain replied, and went on in her quiet, passionless voice 
 to talk of things that interested her emancipation and 
 education. 
 
 These two words became to Evelyn, with her trick of 
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 The Least Resistance 
 
 visualising, twin giants who stalked up and down the 
 deck, bowing low to Mrs. Strain as they passed, ignor- 
 ing every one else as unworthy of their notice. 
 
 It was difficult to reconcile this high-bred friend of 
 emancipation and education with the rapacious splen- 
 dour of Mr. Lawrence Strain, a large, heavy-jawed, 
 lynx-eyed man of fifty who covered a disfiguring bald 
 spot with ingenious combing of the hair and held in check 
 his embarrassing embonpoint with the aid of the world's 
 best tailors. 
 
 Mr. Strain ate five times a day breakfast, luncheon, 
 tea at four, dinner, and what he liked to call a "snack" 
 before retiring. He drank a quart of champagne with 
 his dinner, several highballs with his "snack," the after- 
 noon tea was heavily flavoured with rum, a light claret 
 accompanied his luncheon, and each morning when he 
 appeared on deck before breakfast a boy arrived with 
 an eye-opening cocktail. 
 
 Mr. Strain wore the most expensive clothes ; a magnifi- 
 cent pigeon-blood ruby adorned one large white finger; 
 his cigar case, match-box, all of the numerous articles 
 that he from time to time drew from his pockets were 
 of gold exquisitely wrought. Between the fingers of his 
 large white hand a long black cigar rested; the other 
 hand was plunged in his pocket, ready to appear with a 
 generous tip for the slightest service. He was the deck 
 stewards' delight! 
 
 Evelyn had little talk with him, in fact, he was no 
 talker, but he was constantly offering her some slight 
 attention would she like a book, or a magazine, would 
 she have a highball or a cup of tea or a lemonade and 
 all the while he looked at her with covetous admiration. 
 
 He seemed unaware of his wife's existence, and she 
 treated him in an equally detached manner. He had 
 an occasional contemptuous word about "books" and 
 
 305
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 -^ -^ ^ *^-- * ^ ^ -~ 
 
 "suffragettes," which met with a patient, superior smile 
 from his wife. 
 
 Evelyn disliked him intensely, especially towards the 
 end of the voyage when she saw him manoeuvring to 
 have a few moments alone with her. She avoided him 
 so skilfully that he cursed Fate for thwarting his de- 
 sire to make headway with the pretty little actress. 
 These girls were always looking for a man with money, 
 and he was liberal with women if he could only get 
 a chance to let her know as much. At parting he prom- 
 ised they would be on hand for her opening, and she 
 was to have the rarest flowers the old island afforded. 
 
 When Brandon arrived from England, where he had 
 negotiated for an Australian tour for Mary Leighton to 
 follow immediately her London run, Evelyn told him 
 of the ship's acquaintances. 
 
 "About town they call Strain 'the Sultan,' " he said. 
 "He is disgustingly rich, and disgustingly vicious. New 
 York gasped when Betty Van Allen married him he 
 squeezed the father, and married the daughter. The old 
 man died, and I think he was the lucky member of 
 the family." 
 
 For some time Evelyn thought a great deal of the 
 Strains, but with the beginning of rehearsals they 
 passed from her mind, and she gave herself up to the 
 comedy and pathos of "Millicent." 
 
 The play which Brandon had selected for Evelyn's 
 initial starring had run for a season in London. It 
 was a deft, polite comedy in three acts. It had no 
 great moments, it touched no depths, but it gave the 
 star a chance to wear charming gowns, to flirt bewitch- 
 ingly through the first act ; to be bewildered, and tearful, 
 and filled with ingenue rage in the second; and to purr 
 contentedly in her lover's arms in the last act. All of 
 this was within Evelyn's range. 
 
 A company of capable English actors were engaged 
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 The Least Resistance 
 
 to support her. Much thought was given to the scenery 
 the pretty white-and-gold drawing-room, the English 
 garden with the sunlight falling through the maple 
 leaves, and the heroine's bedroom. All of the back- 
 ground against which the comedy unfolded itself was 
 pretty, refined, and an excellent setting for beautiful 
 gowns. 
 
 At times Evelyn felt afraid of the burden that rested 
 on her shoulders, but Brandon was satisfied, the director 
 coached her carefully and tactfully, and the actors im- 
 plied by their manner that she was a clever young actress 
 and more than equal to the undertaking. Gradually 
 her confidence returned and she threw herself with spirit 
 and energy into the creation of Millicent. 
 
 After four weeks' rehearsals they went up to Provi- 
 dence for the opening. The first performance ran 
 through without a hitch, and the next morning the pa- 
 pers assured Manager Brandon that the play and star 
 were up to his standard. 
 
 They played through Connecticut and Massachusetts 
 for two weeks, working the play into shape for the 
 Broadway opening. Lines had to be changed, scenes 
 shortened, and the comedy pointed up for American 
 audiences. 
 
 The last night of the two weeks they played in Bridge- 
 port, and immediately after the performance the com- 
 pany hurried to the station to catch the train for New 
 York. It was a local that made all of the stops and was 
 totally innocent of the comfort of a parlour-car. 
 
 As Evelyn huddled in a seat in the stuffy coach, and 
 tried to sleep, her mind flew back to the days when she 
 and Bob had played in "No Guiding Hand." How many 
 times had they travelled all night in such cars in order 
 to reach some Middle West town for a matinee. 
 
 Then she had been a poor, struggling little actress, a 
 poor, crushed wife; now she was a beloved creature, 
 
 307
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 a successful young actress about to make her debut as 
 a Broadway star. It seemed strange unreal, as though 
 she were playing a part in a dream now one person, 
 the next moment another, dropping in the transition all 
 feeling of the discarded character. 
 
 But the reality, of at least her present position, 
 flashed over her on Monday night. She and Martin 
 drove to the theatre directly after Evelyn's light dinner, 
 and as the taxi dashed past the front of the house, Martin 
 pointed to the sign. She looked, and there printed in 
 brilliant electric letters over the entrance was "Evelyn 
 Lane 'Millicent's Little Mistake.'" 
 
 Then she realised that she was indeed a star! A 
 sweet feeling of happiness broke in her heart, and in 
 it there was pride and courage. She would justify the 
 bright promise held out to the public by those electric 
 letters. 
 
 She stepped from the cab at the stage door, passed 
 the old door-tender, who bowed ceremoniously, and 
 hurried to the dressing room. Brandon had had it 
 done over in her honour, and equipped it with all neces- 
 sary lights and mirrors, and electrical devices for heat- 
 ing curling-irons and cosmetics. 
 
 Martin had been down during the afternoon and laid 
 out the make-up, and hung up the gowns there they 
 were resting in their flowered slips, the beautiful, soft, 
 fascinating gowns she had brought from Paris. They 
 would like her clothes, the great friendly public, and, oh ! 
 how she hoped that they would like her. 
 
 Then Evelyn turned her attention to the boxes of 
 flowers in one corner of the room. She cut strings 
 and opened boxes little cries of delight escaping her 
 at their contents. Roses, lilies, orchids, carnations, and 
 violets the box of long-stemmed American beauties 
 were from the Lawrence Strains, the lilies of the valley 
 and orchids from Brandon, the white carnations from 
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 The Least Resistance 
 
 little Minnie Carter of the old melodrama days. All the 
 rest bore the names of old and new friends. 
 
 "We must send them to the Children's Hospital," she 
 said to Martin as she inhaled the fragrance of the violets 
 from Ann Dwight. "I can't keep all of this beauty for 
 myself." 
 
 Then she turned to the pile of telegrams and letters. 
 They were all full of congratulations and best wishes 
 for her success. 
 
 Every one had remembered her but Bratton Wayne 
 she thought of him in the midst of her happiness and 
 turned with a little sigh to the dressing table. 
 
 Time flew by and soon "half hour" was called. "Fif- 
 teen minutes" seemed only a few seconds later, and 
 shortly afterwards the stage manager stood at the door 
 asking if Miss Lane were ready for "Overture" to be 
 called. Martin answered that Miss Lane was ready. 
 
 Then Brandon came in, and at the sight of him Eve- 
 lyn's calmness forsook her, and she found herself in the 
 grip of acute stage-fright. She felt cold, sick and faint ; 
 her throat tightened and her mouth grew parched. 
 
 "Oh, C. B., I feel awfully afraid can I do it can 
 I?" 
 
 "Why, little Evelyn, just walk out and be yourself. 
 They are all your friends out there the Strains are 
 spread over two boxes, and the critics have always liked 
 you you've nothing to fear." 
 
 "I wish this night were over." 
 
 "After the performance you are to come to supper 
 with a little party of friendly souls to talk it all over." 
 
 "That will be fine !" She had brightened under his 
 encouragement and when Martin tactfully vanished from 
 the room she crept into his arms and gave him a little 
 kiss on the cheek. 
 
 "Be careful of my make-up," she warned. "You're 
 a dear C. B., and I hope you'll never be sorry." 
 
 309
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 "Stay, my little Evelyn, and I'll do everything for you," 
 he whispered as he held her close and buried his face 
 in her fragrant hair. 
 
 The sound of the Overture floated to them as the 
 heavy fire curtain rolled slowly up and the call for 
 the first act sounded before her door. 
 
 "Good luck, and don't be afraid," Brandon said to 
 her from the doorway. 
 
 As Evelyn made her first entrance she was greeted 
 by a burst of applause which lasted, it seemed to her, 
 an interminable time. She had a fleeting fear that it 
 would drive the lines from her memory, but when it 
 had subsided she picked up her cue and went glibly on. 
 As the play progressed her confidence grew. 
 
 She played with spirit and humour and a sense of 
 values. Her range was narrow, but in her scope her 
 work was artistic, and her personality with its wistful 
 sweetness came over the footlights in a strong appeal 
 to the audience. They liked her, showing it in their 
 laughter and applause, and on the final curtain she was 
 forced to come forward and utter a shy "I thank you." 
 
 After the performance she removed her stage clothes 
 and make-up, slipped into the soft white crepe gown that 
 Martin was holding, settled on her head a silver-lace hat, 
 pinned Brandon's orchids at her waistline, and hurried 
 out to the waiting automobile. 
 
 In her car were Brandon and Mr. and Mrs. Claxton. 
 They congratulated her on her acting and her gowns 
 and her company. Howard Claxton was a playwright 
 who had had several plays produced by Brandon, and 
 now he spoke of Evelyn as ideal for the girl in his 
 newest effort. 
 
 At Sherry's they were joined by Douglas Henley and 
 his wife, and two of Brandon's brother managers, Bill 
 Marlowe and John Bryant. 
 
 Supper was served in a private room, and the talk 
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 The Least Resistance 
 
 was chiefly of Evelyn's successful debut. They drank 
 her health, they toasted her beauty, and predicted a bril- 
 liant future for her. 
 
 Flushed with success and stimulated by the champagne, 
 Evelyn made a little speech, in which she expressed her 
 gratitude for their approval and turning to Brandon 
 thanked him with shining eyes for his faith in her 
 and the golden opportunity he had given her. This 
 was the stroke that made the evening complete. 
 
 And so Evelyn became a star! The play was not 
 an important contribution to dramatic literature, no great 
 new actress had suddenly flashed on an eager public 
 as in the case of Mary Leighton, but as a critic in a 
 morning paper remarked : "Youth, and beauty, and per- 
 sonality have again demonstrated that they are potent 
 factors in the theatre." 
 
 Other critics were equally kind, and "Millicent's Little 
 Mistake" settled down for a run. Evelyn was inter- 
 viewed, and photographed. Her face grew familiar to 
 the patrons of news-stands and readers of small-town 
 papers. She was asked to address clubs, to give advice 
 to girls wanting to go on the stage; samples of soaps 
 and face powders and perfumes were sent her asking 
 her in return for letters of recommendation. 
 
 She received numerous begging letters, asking for 
 everything from her autograph to help in raising the 
 mortgage "on the old home" in Virginia. Her father 
 wrote, enclosing a clipping from the Claysville Press. It 
 contained fulsome words of praise for Kentucky's fair 
 daughter who had achieved fame in the great city. 
 Claysville regarded her with pride and urged her to 
 return to them for a visit. 
 
 Several leading citizens of the town, who were in 
 New York on business or pleasure, called at the theatre 
 to see her. She met them graciously, and sent them 
 away filled with the idea of her greatness and her charm.
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 Two brilliant months swept by. Evelyn had invitations 
 from old friends and new admirers, the Strains par- 
 ticularly urging her to accept their hospitality, but here 
 Brandon drew the line. 
 
 "It's one of his tricks to use his wife for a blind 
 let them alone. She'd have you marching in a suffrage 
 parade, and he he's not fit for you to know." 
 
 "I don't want to see them," Evelyn replied; "she's so 
 sad, and he is such an ugly, gross creature, and no 
 human being could hate the ugly and the gross more 
 than I do." 
 
 He smiled indulgently and Evelyn seated herself on 
 the arm of his chair to show him some of the begging 
 letters she had brought home from the theatre last 
 night. 
 
 It was a bright, cold November afternoon and Bran- 
 don had stopped on his way to pay a visit to a brother 
 manager who was recuperating from a serious illness 
 in a seaside hotel. 
 
 "It will be fine driving on the Island this afternoon, 
 I wish you could come along, little Evelyn, but discre- 
 tion discretion it's a dreary word!" he finished with 
 a laugh. 
 
 "And such a humbug of a word," Evelyn answered. 
 "C. B.," she went on more seriously, "how long is 'Milli- 
 cent' going to live?" 
 
 "Why, she's only two months old," he said in amaze- 
 ment. 
 
 "I know, but she isn't making money " 
 
 "I scarcely expected it. One always loses money on 
 a new star we expect that, but we make it back." 
 
 "But I don't like you to lose money on me." 
 
 "You foolish, little business woman," he said, drawing 
 
 her across the arm of the chair to a secure place on 
 
 his knee. "You know, I often wonder what would have 
 
 become of you if I hadn't been so lucky as to find you." 
 
 312
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 "I found you," she insisted. 
 
 "Whichever way, it was what should have been. Now, 
 don't you worry, we are going to run until after Christ- 
 mas, then perhaps you'll make a short tour say Bos- 
 ton, Washington, Baltimore, and a few others and in 
 the spring we'll try out another play. I've got one called 
 'The Case of Maizie Vaughn' for you it'll give you a 
 chance to act really act. Wouldn't you like that?" 
 
 "Yes, very much, but I do wish this had caught 
 on " 
 
 "Now, you are not to fret about that it isn't going 
 to ruin us. We've got to build you up a following, ad- 
 vertise you " 
 
 "I think you have " 
 
 "I've just begun ; if we stopped now, all that has gone 
 before would be wasted the public forgets very quickly. 
 But they'll know you by the time we are through. I'll 
 spend every cent to make you, my little Evelyn." 
 
 "You great, big, wonderful, generous C. B. !" 
 
 "I love you," he whispered ; "love you adore " 
 
 The words became incoherent. His arms tightened about 
 her. Her head drooped on his shoulder and her soft 
 cheek nestled against his. 
 
 "I love you, C. B.," she breathed. 
 
 In the days that followed, it comforted her somewhat 
 to remember how happy her words had made him. 
 
 Charles Brandon was killed late that afternoon in an 
 automobile accident on Long Island. At a dangerous 
 curve his motor collided with a heavy auto truck, and 
 he and the chauffeur were thrown from the car. Bran- 
 don was dead when they reached him, the chauffeur lived 
 several hours. 
 
 They telephoned Evelyn the news from the theatre, 
 and added that there would be no performance that 
 evening. 
 
 313
 
 CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN 
 
 NEVER had life seemed to Evelyn more unreal, more 
 to partake of the texture of a dream, than during 
 the days which followed Brandon's tragic death. 
 
 A brief note signed by Carl Hunter came, saying that 
 the theatre would remain dark until further notice. For 
 any knowledge of what had happened she had to depend 
 on the newspapers. Here she learned that he was to be 
 buried on Saturday, and that the whole of his fortune 
 went to his widow, except for a few bequests to charity 
 and old employees. 
 
 Mrs. Brandon was an invalid, and her affairs were 
 in the hands of her brother. Through him she would 
 conduct her husband's business until the close of the 
 season, when she hoped to sell out and go to Paris 
 to live. 
 
 "Millicent's Little Mistake" was to be permanently 
 withdrawn, as it had been losing money for weeks. 
 In this announcement Evelyn saw the hand of Carl 
 Hunter. 
 
 The evening this appeared she had a visit from Paul 
 Herbert, an English actor who had been her leading 
 man. He came to see if he could be of any service, 
 and incidentally to know if she were going to make 
 any fight to continue "Millicent." Brandon had promised 
 him a season out of it, though his contract contained 
 the usual two weeks' notice clause. 
 
 Evelyn could offer him no hope, since she had never 
 had a contract with Brandon, not since her very first 
 engagement in "The Holdover." All arrangements be- 
 tween them had been verbal, and even had she had 
 314
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 a contract with the Brandon firm that would hold even 
 after his death, she was in no condition to press it. 
 
 The bare thought of an interview with Carl Hunter, 
 of watching his malicious eyes and his cynical mouth, 
 made her quiver with repulsion. During Brandon's life, 
 whenever their paths crossed, he had not been able to 
 conceal his dislike, and now that he was in authority, 
 she knew that he would spare her no slight or insult. 
 
 But, apart from a shrinking from contact with Hun- 
 ter, Evelyn gave little thought to her future. She was 
 too stunned to care much what happened. The horror 
 of Brandon's end was with her day and night. He had 
 parted from her hale and happy, full of plans for her 
 career. Three hours later he was lying by the roadside 
 dead. So much strength, so much purpose and power 
 blown out as a candle in the wind. 
 
 At times it seemed as though it were all a mistake 
 a dream from which she would wake with a shudder 
 of relief. She caught herself listening for the faint 
 buzz over the front door, for the ring of the telephone, 
 for the sound of his voice. 
 
 She made no effort to see him, had no desire to 
 attend the funeral, which was private, owing to Mrs. 
 Brandon's health. She had been so close to him that 
 staying away seemed disloyal, but Carl Hunter was in 
 charge, and there would be no welcome for her. Nor 
 had she any wish to go ; at present there was only one 
 great wish in her heart, and that was to shut out the 
 picture of Brandon lying cold and lifeless by the shat- 
 tered automobile. 
 
 Had Evelyn been forced to go on with her work, the 
 tragedy would not have been so disastrous in its effect 
 on her. But through the long, idle days she wandered 
 from room to room or sat for hours before the window 
 which looked out over the Square, brooding over the 
 ghastly end of her happiness. 
 
 315
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 The nights were worse. The dark was filled with 
 terror. Sensitive nerves twitched and ached until she 
 was driven to the solace of a sleeping powder. The 
 next morning there was a profound lassitude and heavy 
 pumping of the heart that warned her how great was 
 the price she paid for sleep. 
 
 Four days after Brandon was buried, she received 
 a letter from the office with a check for six hundred 
 dollars enclosed. It stated that, in view of the sudden 
 termination of the season, Mrs. Brandon wished every 
 member of the company to be given two weeks' salary. 
 And added that such of Miss Lane's personal effects as 
 were in the dressing room were held subject to her 
 orders. 
 
 Evelyn sent Martin to pack up her things. Then she 
 re-read the letter and looked at the check. 
 
 Dismissed ! She who had been Brandon's love, "his 
 priceless possession," dismissed with a circular letter 
 and a check for six hundred dollars. 
 
 At the end of ten days the house had grown so in- 
 tolerable to Evelyn, and her vitality so low from the 
 excessive use of drugs, that she decided to leave Martin 
 in charge of the apartment and to run down to Atlantic 
 City. The change, she hoped, would help her back to 
 a normal condition of mind and body. 
 
 She wanted to be alone away from the watchful care 
 of Martin away from all the memories that the apart- 
 ment stood for. She had to make plans for the future, 
 but here where every object spoke of Brandon she could 
 not think beyond the catastrophe that had robbed her 
 of protection and position. 
 
 She arrived in Atlantic City on a clear, cold afternoon. 
 The wind swept in from the ocean, crisp and life-giving. 
 The sun shone bravely on the boardwalk and the glass- 
 enclosed parlours of the hotel. 
 
 The noisy summer crowd had long since vanished, 
 316
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 and its place was taken by a health-seeking, rest-desiring 
 lot of men and women. They walked briskly the length 
 of the boardwalk or sat about wrapped in furs, drinking 
 in the invigorating salt air. 
 
 The week-end brought gay motor parties from Phila- 
 delphia and other neighbouring cities. Then there was 
 music, gay dinner parties, and dancing. All the familiar 
 gaiety filled Evelyn with a dumb, aching sadness. 
 
 But for the most part her spirits were more normal 
 than they had been since Brandon's death. She walked, 
 rested in the sun parlour, ate simply, and slept without 
 the use of drugs. At night her windows were wide 
 open, and the roar and boom of the sea with their sooth- 
 ing rhythm quieted her nerves, and the salt air brought 
 on a delicious drowsiness that soon passed into a deep, 
 dreamless sleep. 
 
 One morning as she started for her walk, crossing 
 the lobby of the hotel, she heard her name called and 
 turned to see the large, overdressed figure of Mr. 
 Lawrence Strain bearing down on her. His hands were 
 outstretched, and his face rising above the fur collar 
 of his coat was composed into a look of solicitude. 
 
 "This is a surprise," he said. "I'm glad to see you." 
 
 "Thank you," she answered, wanting to run away 
 from him. 
 
 "I'm terribly sorry about our friend those accidents 
 are awful." He paused, feeling the situation awkward. 
 
 "Yes, it was dreadful." 
 
 "That was a bad thing, the closing of your play I 
 felt like I wanted to dip into theatricals and take it 
 over it was too good a thing to close up." He was 
 trying to speak casually, and at the same time make 
 her aware that he was a very rich man, who would 
 gladly help an attractive young woman out of her 
 difficulty. 
 
 317
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 "I'm afraid there's no money to be made out of 'Milli- 
 cent' " she said. 
 
 "Why must we all make money?" 
 
 "Oh, we must do that, you know! How is Mrs. 
 Strain?" she asked, to change the subject. 
 
 "Oh, all right ; gone off to some suffrage convention," 
 he answered with a trace of heavy contempt in his voice. 
 "Say, won't you take lunch with me? It would be a 
 real favour. We could talk things over." 
 
 "Thank you, Mr. Strain, but I couldn't to-day. I 
 came down here for a rest. The little I eat is served 
 in my room." 
 
 "Well, that's too bad that's no way to get well. I've 
 got my car here, won't you come for a spin this after- 
 noon? It would do you good." His lynx eyes peered 
 out at her between folds of fat with the old, covetous 
 admiration. 
 
 "You are very kind," she said nervously, "but I'm wait- 
 ing for a wire. If it comes, I may have to go home this 
 afternoon." She held out her hand. "I'm glad to have 
 seen you, and do remember me to Mrs. Strain." 
 
 "I'm sorry you won't let me do some little thing for 
 you. Here's my card, and if at any time you need any 
 any backing you know you artists do sometimes," he 
 said with heavy playfulness, "just let me know. I'll do 
 anything I can, Miss Lane." 
 
 "Thank you again," she said, taking the card. But 
 as she passed on she crumpled it in her hand. "The old 
 beast! The hideous old beast! He came down here 
 to find me as if oh !" 
 
 But several times during the afternoon the thought of 
 the ride he had suggested occurred to her. It would 
 be pleasant spinning along a smooth road in a luxurious 
 car with the wind stinging the face, and filling the lungs 
 with health-giving air pleasanter than sitting by a win- 
 318
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 dow looking out over the unchanging, restless sea with 
 sad, sad thoughts creeping into the mind. 
 
 The next day Evelyn returned to New York, and 
 Martin declared that the week by the sea had done won- 
 ders for her. The deep shadows about the eyes were 
 gone, she was not so nervous, and there was a return 
 of appetite and interest that was encouraging. 
 
 That evening she set to work resolutely to straighten 
 out her financial affairs, and to plan her future cam- 
 paign. During her absence December had been ush- 
 ered in, and with it had come a number of bills. Rent, 
 taxi hire, grocers, butchers, and a last month's florist 
 bill. 
 
 In all she owed three hundred dollars, and Martin's 
 wages were due: an expensive apartment to keep up, 
 a maid, luxurious tastes to satisfy, and against this she 
 placed her resources. There was six hundred dollars 
 in the bank, and five hundred left of the check sent 
 her by Carl Hunter. 
 
 Evelyn breathed a sigh of relief. The situation was 
 not so desperate as she had feared. Surely before the 
 eight hundred dollars that remained after her debts were 
 paid were gone she would have another engagement. 
 
 But she was reckoning without any real knowledge 
 of the effect of Brandon's death, and more particularly 
 of the curt dismissal which had come from Carl Hunter. 
 It had, in the slang of the day, "broken her nerve." 
 The thought of the theatre, of acting, of her old asso- 
 ciates, was accompanied by mental anguish and acute 
 physical distress. 
 
 Again and again she tried to write letters placing 
 her services at the disposal of other managers. Mar- 
 lowe had always been friendly and flattering, he might 
 have something for her, and there were others to whom 
 she might apply. But the letter begun, a violent spell 
 of depression laid hold of her; the pen was dropped, 
 
 319
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 and a sedative resorted to to quiet her quivering nerves. 
 
 A number of her co-workers had written to Evelyn 
 after the closing of her play, and the reading of each 
 letter had been an ordeal. She was abnormally afraid 
 of some tactless word, but the letters had been kind, 
 and some from women friends even tender. One from 
 little Ann Dwight, the ingenue with the old Hartwell 
 company, had touched her, and one lonely afternoon she 
 telephoned and asked Ann to come down. 
 
 Ann arrived shortly afterwards dressed in the latest 
 mode from her dainty high-heeled bronze slippers to 
 the military cap perched at a coquettish angle on her 
 red curls. At their last meeting Ann's hair had been 
 brown, but the new red shade was becoming, and espe- 
 cially effective in the green-and-bronze costume. She 
 carried an enormous muff and wore a great bunch of 
 violets. 
 
 "I'm so glad you telephoned for me," Ann said with 
 the first kiss. "I was just heartbroken when they closed 
 up your play, but they will send it out again, I'm sure 
 it was fine, and you were a love in it." 
 
 Evelyn had felt herself wince under Ann's opening 
 speech, but as she rattled on it was evident that, what- 
 ever theatrical gossip she had heard, none of it was to 
 sift through to her friend. 
 
 f 'And what are you doing, Ann?" Evelyn asked when 
 they were seated. 
 
 "Nothing, but having a perfectly glorious time. I was 
 in 'Welcome Home,' but it lasted three weeks, and since 
 then I've been at liberty!" 
 
 "I thought it went to Chicago " 
 
 "Oh! it did, but I didn't want to go. I hate Chicago 
 in the winter time the wind is awful." 
 
 Evelyn smiled and rang for Martin to bring in the 
 tea. "So you stayed here." 
 
 "Yes, and I mean to stay. Going on the road doesn't 
 320
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 get you anything. For years I was the pet of all the 
 number two companies, and I couldn't get more than 
 seventy-five dollars to save my life, and even then 
 it was a long time between jobs." 
 
 "Well, it is nice that you can stay here and wait for 
 something worth while." 
 
 "Yes, I wouldn't go away for a farm. I have a peach 
 of a place. A great big studio, and two little rooms off 
 it. I can give darling old parties you must come to my 
 Christmas one." 
 
 "But aren't studios always cold?" Evelyn asked. 
 
 "Not mine. It looks over the park, and is beautifully 
 heated." 
 
 "So you really don't care whether you act or not?" 
 Evelyn asked with a smile. 
 
 "Oh, yes, if I can get something good. I saw our old 
 friend, Tilton, to-day, but it was another one of those 
 Chicago offers, and so I turned it down. He was quite 
 peeved with me, and told me that I had a poor idea 
 of getting on in 'my profession/ Yes, I ought to let 
 Tilton direct my career, and I'd be a huge success, like 
 Miss Winnie Hartwell." 
 
 "She has a lot of bad luck " 
 
 "Some of us would say she's done a lot of bad acting, 
 but you always were charitable, Evelyn." 
 
 "I have to be I have to ask for so much," Evelyn 
 said wistfully. 
 
 "No such thing you are a darling actress. Oh, Eve- 
 lyn," she burst out with a sudden change of thought, 
 "you must see my Tommy he's the most adorable 
 thing!" 
 
 "Cat, dog, or mere man?" Evelyn asked. 
 
 "Oh, a love of a man, or rather he's a boy. He's only 
 twenty-four and say, Evelyn, when he's about remem- 
 ber I am just twenty-three," Ann said with a wise smile. 
 
 321
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 "Well, you look eighteen in that charming frock 
 and " 
 
 "My red curls," Ann said, running to a mirror. "Yes, 
 they help a lot. You know, Evelyn, I had an awful up- 
 hill time until I changed the colour of my hair. The 
 morning after it happened I was riding up in an elevator 
 and old Ike Steinberg was the only other person in the 
 car. I had been trying to see him for two months, but 
 he would have none of me. Well, this time he looked 
 me over, and seeing approval in his eyes, I shook my 
 curls at him, and lisped out: 'Mr. Steinberg, I was just 
 going up to see you.' And that's how I got my job with 
 The Pace Setter.' " 
 
 "Oh, that is delicious, Ann." And for the first time 
 in many weeks Evelyn laughed heartily. 
 
 "Then I met Tommy at a dance given by Janie Roller, 
 and the red curls got him. They are here to stay." 
 
 "Well, they are most becoming, and I don't wonder 
 that you've made so many hits. But do tell me some 
 more about Tommy what is he an actor?" 
 
 "An actor? My dear, what do you think of me? The 
 last actor-beau I had used to let me sign my own dinner 
 checks while he made violent love to me ! No, indeed ; 
 Tommy is a real fellow. His father is old John Black- 
 burn, who has stacks of money." 
 
 "Yes, I've heard of him." 
 
 "Tommy is his only son, and he's a love. Say, sup- 
 pose you dine with us to-night it'll be peachy. He has 
 seen you act, and liked you, and he'd be tickled to death 
 to take out a real live star." 
 
 "But, Ann, I'm not going out just now " 
 
 "That's just what's the matter with you ! Sitting here 
 brooding and worrying, making yourself all sad and 
 pale you need to get out. I'll tell Tommy to come 
 for us at four, and we can take a spin through the Park 
 in his car, and then have dinner. You must do it the 
 322
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 Doctor prescribes it." Without waiting for Evelyn to 
 answer, Ann tripped to the telephone. 
 
 Evelyn watched her with interest. She remembered 
 so well the eager, insistent egotism of Ann in the Hart- 
 well company. The night Tilton crushed her with his 
 disapproval of her gown. At first she had disliked Ann, 
 then as she glimpsed something of the real girl beneath 
 the pretences, came to realise the struggle with poverty, 
 and the brave show always made, she had been softened. 
 In those days there had been a hard, eager look in her 
 eyes, and when she was not on her guard, tense lines 
 showed about the mouth. 
 
 Now Ann was a pretty, confident, well-dressed little 
 person with a shrewd knowledge of the process of "get- 
 ting on." Happiness had softened the hard light in her 
 eyes, and thrown a veil of sweetness over the insistent 
 egotism. 
 
 Evelyn felt a decided curiosity to see the wonderful 
 Tommy who had wrought the change not for one mo- 
 ment did she attribute the change in Ann to any other 
 source. 
 
 Meanwhile Ann was busy trying to locate Tommy, 
 who once on the line declared that he should be delighted 
 to call for the girls at four. Should he bring along an- 
 other fellow ? Ann turned to Evelyn. 
 
 "No, just you two please," Evelyn said. 
 
 "Just us to-night, Tommy. Now don't be late. Yes, 
 you know I do, silly." And with a smile of conscious 
 power Ann hung up the receiver. 
 
 The arrangements made, Ann returned to her cup of 
 tea, and began to gossip gaily of the actors and actresses 
 that they both knew. For a month Evelyn had been out 
 of touch with the theatre, and save for the small infor- 
 mation gleaned from the papers and the dramatic jour- 
 nals, she knew nothing of the workings of the Brandon 
 office and how it was affecting other companies. 
 
 323
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 Ann repeated in a light, detached manner talk cur- 
 rent among theatrical people. Carl Hunter, so the ru- 
 mour ran, had always been ambitious to branch out as 
 a manager and he had prevailed on his sister to let him 
 carry on the business of the Brandon firm. 
 
 "He'll make a fine job of it. He's never been any- 
 thing but business manager of some of C. B.'s smaller 
 road shows, and a clerk in the office. And he's got a 
 mean face don't you think so?" 
 
 "I never liked him," Evelyn agreed. 
 
 "He'll grind the actor down and cheat the public. 
 I predict that a year from now Mrs. Brandon will find 
 herself in a fine lot of trouble. She thinks better of 
 brothers than I do !" Ann said with great scorn. "By the 
 way," she said with a sudden change of thought, "I 
 met a friend of yours recently." 
 
 "Who?" 
 
 "Bratton Wayne met him at the Waldorf, seems he 
 likes to lunch there. He said that Kipling would never 
 have written, 'And never the twain shall meet,' if he'd 
 ever lunched there. I didn't get his meaning " 
 
 "He is always a little whimsical," Evelyn put in. 
 
 "I don't think he remembered me, but when I reminded 
 him of the Hartwell Company, he soon warmed up, and 
 I found out it was to ask about you." 
 
 "You've a great, big imagination for such a small 
 girl." 
 
 "No such thing. I know when a man is interested 
 I can taste it in his talk. Why don't you send him a 
 card, and ask him to call?" 
 
 "No," Evelyn said thoughtfully, "I couldn't do that. 
 Now I've got to dress if I am going with you. Can you 
 amuse yourself for a little while?" 
 
 "Sure, run along. I'll look over these magazines. 
 Don't put on anything fancy I'm going just as I am. 
 324
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 Tommy is a Bohemian one doesn't have to dress for 
 dinner with him." 
 
 As Evelyn dressed she was surprised to find how 
 glad she was that Ann had insisted on her going out 
 with the adorable Tommy. "I've got to live," she was 
 saying to herself, "and I might as well begin. I won't 
 get anywhere moping about the house perhaps I'll meet 
 people who will do me some good." 
 
 She slipped into a little grey velvet gown which hung 
 in straight lines from the shoulders, a girdle encircled 
 her hips, accentuating their slenderness. At the throat 
 it was cut in a deep square and soft cream lace relieved 
 its severeness. A grey cap with a single drooping 
 feather completed the costume. Its effective demure- 
 ness gave her something of the appearance of a Quaker 
 a frail, lovely Quaker lass. 
 
 "What a love of a dress," Ann cried as Evelyn ap- 
 peared in the doorway, "and how it suits you Paris ?" 
 
 "Yes last summer." 
 
 "It's perfect!" She came up and slipped her arm 
 about Evelyn's waist. "You mustn't look so sad life 
 is wonderful, and we are meant to be happy." 
 
 "Some of us," Evelyn said with a twisted little smile. 
 "But I'm not sad it's just the dress. I feel very happy 
 to go out with you and 'the adorable one.' Isn't that his 
 car now?" 
 
 Ann dashed to the window. "It is look at it. Isn't 
 it a peach? Poor dear, he smashed his hand last week 
 and can't run it." 
 
 Evelyn joined her and looked down on the long-bodied 
 yellow car which was drawn up at the curb. 
 
 "Yes, it's a splendid one!" 
 
 "And they want me to go to Chicago !" Ann said with 
 great scorn. A moment later she rushed to the door 
 to admit Tommy. 
 
 325
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 "Well, Tommykins, you are on time for a change. I 
 want to present you to Miss Lane." 
 
 Tommy advanced with a long stride and took Eve- 
 lyn's outstretched hand in his left, giving it such a 
 squeeze that she winced with pain. 
 
 "Excuse my left, smashed my right in a boxing match 
 last week. Awful glad to know you, Miss Lane heard 
 a lot about you from Ann." 
 
 "I've gotten well acquainted with you this afternoon, 
 and I'm so glad you came down." 
 
 "Thanks. The fire is jolly," he said, stretching his 
 hands before the brightly-burning logs. Tommy was a 
 Yale athlete, broad-shouldered, deep-chested, a round, 
 pugnacious-looking head with brown hair so well plas- 
 tered down that it seemed more like a coat of paint 
 than hair. A good-natured mouth and frank, boyish 
 eyes without a gleam of an intellectual depth. He 
 seemed very young, something like a big friendly puppy 
 that wanted to play all day long. He made Evelyn feel 
 intolerably old. 
 
 "Can I give you some tea," she asked, "or something 
 else stronger ?" 
 
 "Tommy is very fond of Scotch," Ann chirped in. 
 
 "Then it shall be Scotch." 
 
 "Thanks, awfully it's cold as blazes out." 
 
 Evelyn disappeared into the dining-room, and Tommy 
 snatched up Ann and gave her a kiss. 
 
 "How's the small girl ?" he asked as he put her down 
 and stood with his hands on her shoulders. 
 
 "I'm fine, Tommy, but what do you think? I saw 
 Tilton to-day, and he wanted me to go to Chicago with 
 the Number Two 'Beat It.' It opens there with a Christ- 
 mas matinee, and to think I'd have to go away from you 
 and give up my party " 
 
 "Nothing doing," Tommy said emphatically ; "you are 
 going to stay right along in this little town. Say," jerk- 
 326
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 ing his head towards the dining-room, "she's some girl." 
 
 "Yes," Ann whispered sympathetically; "it's too bad." 
 
 "Say, why don't we ask Bruce along his grandmother 
 was a Quaker." And Tommy laughed merrily at his own 
 joke. 
 
 "Evelyn hasn't been well, and she just wanted to go 
 with us to-night. Some other time " 
 
 Tommy went forward to meet his hostess, who was ad- 
 vancing with a tray holding the bottle of Scotch whiskey, 
 a siphon, and some glasses. 
 
 "That's too heavy for you," he said as he took it away 
 and placed it on the table. 
 
 "Isn't this a cunning place, Tommy?" Ann asked as 
 Evelyn made the highballs. 
 
 "Sure, dandy. Well, here's to you, Miss Lane." He 
 raised his glass. "Well, isn't anybody going to join 
 me?" 
 
 "It's very good Scotch, Ann," Evelyn said insinu- 
 atingly. 
 
 "Well, a small one. I don't drink much it makes me 
 fat ugh!" 
 
 "I'll join the party, too," Evelyn said as she mixed 
 a third. 
 
 After this Tommy helped the two girls into their fur 
 coats, and pulled Ann's collar about her ears, warning 
 them that it was "cold as virtue outside," and he laughed 
 in his boyish way at this piece of daring wit. 
 
 It was cold, but as the long yellow automobile turned 
 on Fifth Avenue and sped up the smooth, glistening 
 street, Evelyn felt that there had never been such an 
 invigorating, exhilarating sting to the air, never had 
 the early winter twilight been so pregnant with joy. 
 
 The three were on the rear seat, Ann between Tommy 
 and Evelyn. A great fur robe was tucked about them, 
 and only patches of faces were visible over fur collars 
 and beneath fur caps. 
 
 327
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 Farther up the avenue they ran into the block of the 
 late afternoon traffic. The chauffeur brought his car 
 into the long line and advanced or retarded to the po- 
 lice whistle. 
 
 "The avenue's a bore this time of day. Turn off to 
 Madison, Louis!" Tommy called. 
 
 "Oh, no!" Ann cut in. "Let's stay here, we don't 
 mind going slow, it's nice to see the people. Look, Eve- 
 lyn, there's our dear friend Winnie in that brown 
 limousine." 
 
 Evelyn looked across to the line of automobiles 
 headed downtown, and there in a closed car under a 
 hat decked with yellow plumes was Miss Hartwell. On 
 her lap rested a Pomeranian dog. It was the same 
 Winnie shallow, hard, over-dressed, and discontented. 
 As the two cars passed she bowed slightly in answer 
 to Ann's cheerful nod. 
 
 "I made her see me," Ann said; "now she can tell 
 Tilton, and he'll want me to go to Chicago more than 
 ever." 
 
 "She's some politician, this girl," Tommy said with 
 great pride to Evelyn. 
 
 There was the sound of a shrill whistle, and the line 
 moved on for several blocks. Ann slipped her arm 
 through Tommy's and buried both hands in her muff. 
 By this he was reminded that she had not forgotten 
 him, though she gave her attention to the passing auto- 
 mobiles and the hurrying throngs on the sidewalks. 
 
 "Why, they let us get by with five blocks," Tommy 
 said, but even as he spoke the whistle blew and the car 
 came to a stop. 
 
 "Oh, look, there's Bruce Winthrop !" And Ann waved 
 her white-gloved hand frantically. 
 
 "Where?" Tommy asked. 
 
 "Over there on the corner he just came from Sher- 
 328
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 ry's. He is talking to that young Englishman we met 
 last night. Oh, he sees us !" 
 
 She had attracted the attention of Bruce, who quitted 
 his companion and wound his way in between the ma- 
 chines until he reached Tommy's car. 
 
 "Let's take him along with us," Tommy had been 
 saying to Evelyn. "He's a good sport, you'll like him." 
 
 "Hello, people!" Bruce called out as he came up and 
 stepped on the running board. "Where you bound ?" 
 
 "For a spin and dinner," Ann chirped. 
 
 "Lucky people! I've been teaing with the English- 
 man, and some other ladies," Bruce answered. He was 
 squeezing Ann's arm in friendly greeting, but his eyes 
 were on Evelyn. The next moment he was lifting his 
 hat in answer to the introduction. 
 
 "Say, why don't you take me along I'm bored to 
 death!" 
 
 "Can he come, Miss Lane?" Tommy asked. 
 
 "I'll be good, Miss Lane," Bruce promised. 
 
 "I'm no stern parent that wants to keep you at home," 
 she answered. 
 
 The whistle sounded again, and Bruce flung open the 
 door and seated himself by Louis. 
 
 "My, this wind! Haven't you a cap in one of those 
 pockets there's generally one in the left side." 
 
 "Here it is," Tommy said as he dived for it, and 
 tossed it over to Bruce. 
 
 "This is great," the other answered as he slipped 
 it on, and dropped his hat in the body of the car. "I 
 throw my hat at your feet, young Ann Dwight." 
 
 "It would be more interesting if it were your heart," 
 she pouted. 
 
 "You've been stepping on that for years." And they 
 all laughed. 
 
 The coming of Bruce added a new note of gaiety to 
 the crowd. He made them laugh with his description 
 
 329
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 of the tea; he teased Ann, rallied Tommy, and looked 
 often at Evelyn. 
 
 He was curious about her ; her face was familiar, but 
 not having heard her first name, he did not connect 
 her with the Evelyn Lane whose starring venture had 
 terminated so tragically. 
 
 They circled the Park, and passed out, crossing to 
 Riverside Drive, working out of the congested district 
 to a comparatively free stretch of roadway. Louis 
 heightened his speed, and for a while all talk ceased. 
 
 A clear, cold night had settled over the city. There 
 was no moon, but the stars were out, twinkling frostily 
 in the heavens. The great blocks of apartment build- 
 ings on the right were bright with lights ; on the left, 
 below the embankment, the dark Hudson flowed ; across, 
 gleamed the lamps on the Jersey shore. They overtook 
 a night boat, which flashed its searchlight across their 
 path. 
 
 Wrapped in fur, covered with the warm robe, held 
 firmly in her corner by the pressure of Ann's body, 
 Evelyn gave herself up to the beauty of the night. 
 
 She felt free, alive, full of confidence and hope. Life 
 had not stopped for her. She was still young, lovely, 
 and she had power. The heights gained were not to 
 be lost. Never had she faced the future so bravely as 
 on this cold, starlit night. 
 
 "I'm starving!" Ann called out suddenly. "Let's stay 
 up here for dinner instead of going back to town." 
 
 "Suits me," Tommy answered. "Stop at the Inn, 
 Louis." 
 
 "I see the lights now goody! I hope they'll have 
 some of those delicious ducks we had last time, and some 
 sparkling Burgundy that doesn't make me fat!" 
 
 "You are putting on weight daily, Ann; if you don't 
 look out, a side show will steal you." 
 
 "I think you are perfectly horrid, Bruce Winthrop. 
 330-
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 I haven't gained a pound in six months. Here's the Inn, 
 and I'm not going to talk to you any more," Ann said 
 with an emphatic nod. 
 
 Tommy threw off the robe, and jumped out to assist 
 the girls. They hurried up the steps and through the 
 glass door into the warmth of the Inn. 
 
 Ann and Evelyn retired for rehabilitation, and over 
 the powder puff Ann gossiped : "Bruce makes me cross 
 sometimes, talking about my getting fat, and I never 
 weighed more than one hundred and twenty in my 
 life." 
 
 "He's just teasing," Evelyn said consolingly. 
 
 "I know, but Tommy is awfully influenced by Bruce, 
 and I don't want him to get the idea that I'm gaining." 
 
 "Who is Bruce Winthrop the son of the old man?" 
 Evelyn asked. 
 
 "Yes, the son of old Bruce Winthrop who owns acres 
 of New York. He is really an awfully good sort. Not 
 a bit spoiled by his money, and the women who run 
 after him." 
 
 "I thought he was to be married the papers " 
 
 "Oh, the papers marry him off every other day. He 
 doesn't care much for girls that is, seriously. He runs 
 
 around a lot, but " Ann shrugged her shoulders in 
 
 an expressive way. 
 
 When they were seated at the table, Evelyn looked 
 with new interest at the heir of the Winthrop millions. 
 He was smaller than Tommy, not so tall, nor so broad 
 of shoulder, but his head was better shaped, and his 
 eyes keener. He had a flexible, good-natured mouth, 
 and a rapid way of speaking that made him seem cleverer 
 than he was. He liked to fancy that life was a bore, and 
 he was a little intolerant and superior in his attitude 
 towards women, as became a man of the world. 
 
 He met Evelyn's veiled interest with equally veiled 
 curiosity. Tommy had revealed her identity, and Bruce, 
 
 331
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 who see-sawed between debutantes and chorus girls, 
 found the proximity of a legitimate star a novel and 
 pleasing experience. How quaintly she was gotten up; 
 what other girl would have thought of those clothes? 
 What other girl could have worn them and not looked 
 affected? But they just suited her. She was a frail- 
 looking creature awfully pale, rather a pretty pallor, 
 and her eyes were nice. Then he wondered what im- 
 pression he had made on her as a rule, girls liked him, 
 or at least they made a fuss over him. So far she 
 hadn't seemed especially aware of his presence. 
 
 The dinner progressed merrily from the oysters, 
 through the soup to the ducks, which justified Ann's an- 
 ticipations. 
 
 "Duck hunting that's good sport," Tommy said; 
 "used to go down to the Chesapeake every fall " 
 
 "Why go down there and get all cold and dirty when 
 you can get such delicious ducks right here?" Ann put 
 in, and Tommy laughed at her simplicity. 
 
 Evelyn had little to say. What could she say to these 
 gay young people? Fortunately they made no demands 
 on her. Their talk was without direction, and without 
 continuity. It reminded her of a game she had played 
 in her childhood called, "Hop, Skip and Jump." The 
 final "jump" was a laugh from Tommy, a giggle from 
 Ann, and a lazy smile from Bruce, and immediately the 
 subject was changed. 
 
 But though she was silent, she seemed, through her 
 gift for listening, quite in the spirit of the occasion, and 
 in reality she was not in the least annoyed or bored. 
 
 The dinner was delicious, the wine excellent; there 
 were hurrying waiters, the distant music, other gay par- 
 ties dining close by, and then the pointed courtesy paid 
 her as the guest of honour. 
 
 With the progress of the dinner her spirits rose, and 
 across her wine glass she smiled at Bruce with deeply 
 332
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 appealing eyes, and spoke his name with a liquid sweet- 
 ness that was flattering. And under the influence of the 
 wine and her eyes he dropped his flippant gaiety, and 
 became boyish and charming. 
 
 "Will you let me come to see you some time?" he 
 asked as they stood on the porch waiting for Louis to 
 bring up the car. 
 
 "Sunday afternoons I am home." 
 "Do I have to come with a lot of people?" 
 "I'm seeing very few people just now only a favoured 
 few," she said softly. 
 
 He took her arm to help her down the steps and lifted 
 her gently into the car. At the end of their journey he 
 saw her to her door, and as they shook hands he said, 
 "Till Sunday." 
 
 333-
 
 CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT 
 
 / TpHE next morning Evelyn was full of disgust for the 
 J. evening before. Not one serious, interesting word 
 had been said. Ann had chirped and gurgled; Tommy 
 had flashed his heavy, good-natured, second-hand wit; 
 Bruce, under an indifferent exterior, had been busy mak- 
 ing an impression on her, and she had flirted discreetly 
 with him. 
 
 She who had so recently passed through such a tragic 
 experience had spent the evening with no memory of the 
 past or thought of the future. 
 
 This was not altogether true. As she lay in the soft 
 bed in the pretty bright room waiting for Martin to bring 
 in the breakfast tray, Evelyn was forced to recognise the 
 almost subconscious thought of the future that had been 
 with her on the night before. Now it came again, taking 
 shape as a bright and possible way of escape from the 
 uncertainties of her present existence. 
 
 Then Martin appeared with the tray, and by the side 
 of the tea cup was a letter. It was in Mary's familiar 
 hand, and was postmarked Sidney, Australia. Mary had 
 cabled her immediately after Brandon's death, but this 
 was the first letter that had come. She was full of con- 
 cern for Evelyn. 
 
 "I shall be here probably a year longer," she wrote, 
 "and if things go wrong with you, or you feel that you 
 need a change of scene and thought, come out to me. 
 We are going to do several interesting plays after the 
 run of 'Olga,' and we can make room for you. My con- 
 tract with the Brandon firm has six months to run, and 
 after that Mr. Williams is going to present me in several 
 of the more recent Broadway successes. 
 334
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 "I want to hear from you, Evelyn. At times I am 
 anxious about you, about your health, but I am sure that 
 you are going to be a sensible girl, and will go on soberly 
 and seriously with your work. Keep up your courage 
 and your ideals, and take care of your precious self I 
 wish I were there to look after you." 
 
 The effect of this letter on Evelyn was to drive her 
 immediately to her desk. There she wrote letters to four 
 well-known managers saying that she was without plans 
 for the present, and should be glad to have them bear her 
 in mind if there were parts in their new productions 
 suited to her. 
 
 After she had written the letters she dressed and went 
 for a walk up Fifth Avenue. It was a brisk December 
 day and the sidewalks were crowded with Christmas 
 shoppers. Evelyn wound her way in and out of the 
 throng, pausing to look at the alluring shop windows. 
 She espied a hat that she yearned for, but resisted temp- 
 tation, and walked on, only to yield a few doors above to 
 the seductions of a white silk negligee a filmy, lacy thing 
 reduced from twenty-five to fifteen dollars. 
 
 "I always feel more cheerful when I am buying some- 
 thing pretty." So she justified this expenditure to her 
 conscience. "And I need to be cheered up. I can't live 
 in gloom I've got to go on. If I economise, and think 
 depressing thoughts, I'll never get anywhere." 
 
 Reasoning thus, Evelyn passed the Waldorf, and, 
 obeying a sudden impulse, turned and passed in through 
 the revolving doors. She paused for a moment at the 
 entrance of the restaurant. The orchestra was playing 
 an air from "Madame Butterfly." There were groups 
 of well-dressed men and smartly attired women sitting 
 about tables bright with shining silver and glassware. 
 Waiters hurried with trays, bus boys moved about, a page 
 passed through calling out names in a monotonous voice. 
 
 There assailed Evelyn's nostrils a warm fragrance 
 
 335
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 made up of the perfume of luxurious women, the aroma 
 of savoury dishes, and the bouquet of fine tobacco. De- 
 pression forsook her entirely she felt at home, elated, 
 confident. 
 
 The head waiter saw her standing slim and elegant in 
 her rich furs and held up a courteous hand to direct her 
 to a table just vacated. She was seated by a window 
 that commanded a view of the sunny Avenue. The long 
 line of automobiles, the heavy, green motor busses with a 
 few occupants braving the winter wind on the upper 
 deck; the stream of pedestrians flowing downtown, con- 
 testing the sidewalks with the stream flowing uptown. 
 On the corner stood a boy with a tray of violets and 
 gardenias he stamped his feet to keep them warm as 
 he called out his wares. 
 
 She turned, conscious that a waiter was hovering over 
 her. She glanced at the menu everything seemed un- 
 usually expensive. 
 
 "Let me see a pot of tea, toast, and a fruit salad a 
 dry Martini first." She glanced up just in time to see 
 Bratton Wayne leave a table in a far corner. 
 
 "Go speak to that gentleman, and say Miss Lane 
 would like to see him. His name is Mr. Wayne." 
 
 The waiter hurried away, and Evelyn turned again to 
 the window. A few moments later Bratton Wayne was 
 standing by her table. 
 
 "How do you do," she said, extending her hand. "I 
 couldn't resist sending for you when I caught sight of 
 your back." 
 
 "You are very kind," he said, as they shook hands. 
 "How are you this bright December day?" There was 
 none of the old cordiality in his voice, and only a formal 
 smile on his face. 
 
 "I was out for a walk, and the crowds tired me so I 
 dropped in here for lunch." 
 336
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 "Contending with the Christmas crowds does wear one 
 out," he said politely. 
 
 "Won't you sit down with me I'm going to be here 
 only a little while." 
 
 He hesitated a moment, then sat down. 
 
 "I'm having a cocktail will you join me?" 
 
 "No, thanks." 
 
 "Then coffee for Mr. Wayne," she said to the waiter. 
 
 "No, really, I couldn't I have lunched." 
 
 "Nonsense; I never saw you when you couldn't drink 
 one more cup." 
 
 He made no further objection, and the waiter dis- 
 appeared. For a moment after they were alone they 
 looked in each other's eyes. She was hoping that into 
 the courteous, impersonal gaze something of the old, 
 friendly light would come. 
 
 "I feel that I have bullied you dreadfully in keeping 
 you here, but it is real charity of you to stay I'm dread- 
 fully lonely to-day," she said. 
 
 "That scarcely seems possible." 
 
 Evelyn made a little mouth which he pretended not to 
 see. 
 
 "I read your new book a few weeks ago. Janet seems 
 to me the realest woman you've done." 
 
 "So your friend, Mary Leighton, thinks, too. I had a 
 letter from her this morning." 
 
 Evelyn looked at him inquiringly. She did not know 
 that a friendship existed between the two Mary had 
 never mentioned it. 
 
 "I had a letter from her this morning, too. She wants 
 me to come out to her in Australia " 
 
 "Yes?" he asked, with the first gleam of real interest. 
 
 "But I can't go. I have no heart for long trips alone." 
 
 The waiter appeared at that moment with the cock- 
 tail, and as Evelyn sipped it the talk between them be- 
 came desultory enough. 
 
 337
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 On the whole it was an unsatisfactory luncheon. It 
 scarcely seemed possible to Evelyn that this was the old 
 Bratton with whom she had spent so many happy hours 
 during the winter that followed the closing of the Hart- 
 well Company, and who had been such a delightful com- 
 panion the week in Switzerland. Never before had he 
 failed to be interested in her least word, or concerned 
 for her welfare. This formally polite man, who left all 
 conversational initiative to her, and rarely followed her 
 in that beyond a few necessary comments, was a stranger, 
 and a baffling, annoying stranger at that. 
 
 And mixed with her chagrin was a great deal of curi- 
 osity. What were his real feelings beneath the courte- 
 ously impersonal exterior? Had she ceased to interest 
 him, or was he hiding from her a deep hurt ? She fenced 
 skilfully to find a weakness in his defence, but as they 
 left the table a sense of her own defeat was heavy in 
 her heart. 
 
 "Are you walking, or shall I see you to a taxi?" he 
 asked. 
 
 "A taxi, please," she answered. 
 
 He helped her in, and repeated the address to the 
 chauffeur. Then he stood by looking in through the open 
 window at her. 
 
 "I am going to wish you a happy Christmas, now," 
 he said. "I am leaving to-morrow for San Francisco. 
 Gordon's playing there and I am going to spend the holi- 
 days with him." 
 
 "You are a wonderful brother," she said, smiling 
 bravely at him. 
 
 "He's all I have. Good-bye, Evelyn Hope." There 
 was a ghost of the old warmth in his voice. 
 
 "Good-bye," she answered, as she laid her hand for a 
 fleeting moment on his. "Good-bye I'm sorry, Brat- 
 ton." 
 
 He raised his hat, turned abruptly, and walked away. 
 -338-
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 Evelyn leaned back in the cab with closed eyes. She 
 wanted to shut out the world the gay, brilliant world. 
 The wind whistled shrilly through the open windows of 
 the taxi, she shivered in her furs. The last vestige of 
 courage and hope departed, and mortification and despair 
 laid waste to her spirit. 
 
 She paid the chauffeur, felt her way up the stairs, and 
 rang the bell. Then she remembered that Martin was 
 away for the afternoon. She fumbled in her purse for 
 the key, and opened the door. 
 
 The living room was cold and uninviting. A number 
 of new bills were lying on the desk. Evelyn laid aside 
 her furs and looked wildly about. 
 
 A new sensation had come to torture her sick nerves. 
 Brandon he was everywhere. He might walk in the 
 door as he had so many times; he might emerge from 
 the bedroom, or peer at her over the top of the arm- 
 chair that had been his favourite seat. Often she had 
 come in and found him there waiting for her she felt 
 that he was waiting now ! 
 
 Holding her hand over her mouth and quivering with 
 terror, Evelyn backed into the dining room, not daring 
 to take her eyes from the living room where the unseen 
 presence lurked. 
 
 On a small table stood the bottle of Scotch and the 
 siphon which had served her light-hearted guests yester- 
 day. She snatched up a glass, poured it half full, sprayed 
 in the charged water, and drank it down. 
 
 "I won't suffer any more I won't I won't!" she 
 cried hysterically. 
 
 Martin, returning late in the afternoon, found her 
 mistress lying on the couch in the living room. Her hair 
 was down, and she was wrapped in an old bath robe. 
 
 Surprised at her unusually deep sleep, Martin bent 
 over her, touching her hands gently. They were cold 
 
 339
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 and lifeless. The face showed a ghastly pallor in the 
 winter twilight. "Miss Lane Miss Evelyn," she said 
 gently. There was no answer, and she gave the limp 
 figure a shake. The eyelids quivered, but there was no 
 sign of returning consciousness. 
 
 Martin hurried to the kitchen, lighted a fire, and 
 put on water to heat. Back to the living room she 
 rushed, struck a match to the gas logs, and ripped off 
 Evelyn's shoes and stockings. 
 
 For an hour she worked with hot water and mustard 
 and heart massage, and then the fluttering lids opened, 
 and a sigh escaped from the pale lips. 
 
 "Feel better now?" Martin asked gently. 
 
 Evelyn nodded; it was difficult to speak. Her head 
 throbbed dully, her heart pumped laboriously, and a 
 profound inertia was over her whole body. Shortly these 
 symptoms would give way to twitching nerves, and a spell 
 of hysterics, but there were three of those wonderful 
 powders that she had gotten in Paris, and one always 
 quieted her. 
 
 "I'll make you some beef tea it will be good for you, 
 and then I'll put you to bed," Martin said. 
 
 Again Evelyn nodded, and Martin left the room. Pass- 
 ing through the dining room she took the bottle of whis- 
 key and hid it on the highest shelf of the china closet. 
 
 Left alone, Evelyn lay back on her pillows watching 
 the brightly burning gas logs. Then she glanced up at 
 the little clock which ticked cheerfully on the mantel. 
 It was seven o'clock. 
 
 There was a long evening ahead but it wouldn't seem 
 long if she went to sleep. Just now she thought she might 
 be able to sleep without help from the little white pow- 
 der. She felt very warm and drowsy, and, remember- 
 ing that to-morrow was Sunday, almost cheerful. She 
 began to think about the dress she would wear to com- 
 plete the subjugation of young Bruce Winthrop. 
 340
 
 CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE 
 
 BRUCE WINTHROP arrived the next afternoon at 
 four. He drove down in a bright green car, and 
 ran up the stairs to Evelyn's apartment. In answer to 
 his ring she opened the door. 
 
 "I'm very glad to see you," she said as she extended 
 her hand to him. 
 
 "Thanks, I'm awfully glad you let me come. I'll 
 leave this big old coat out here." He slipped off the fur- 
 lined coat, and hung it up in the tiny vestibule. 
 
 She could see he was a bit embarrassed, and that 
 it had taken some courage on his part to come. He 
 had seen her only once, and then he hadn't been at all 
 able, as he said to himself, to "get a line on her." Usually 
 he "sized up" a woman at once, and unless they imme- 
 diately attracted him, he gave them no further thought. 
 In this case he didn't like to admit that he was attracted, 
 but certainly he had thought about her a great deal during 
 the day, and waited quite impatiently for four o'clock. 
 
 Very soon, under Evelyn's tactful lead, he was feeling 
 at ease, and hurrying along in his rapid, jesting way. 
 
 And all the while she was studying him, instinctively 
 seeking the most effective way of pleasing him. In her 
 manner there was no trace of coquetry he was too 
 young for subtleties, and in an open flirtation she was 
 sure that he was more adept than she. He was bright, 
 spoiled, aggressive, regarded as one of the fast young 
 men about town, but he was still very much of a boy, 
 and there was a streak of chivalry in him that one could 
 easily touch. 
 
 Evelyn saw this in the look which answered her state- 
 ment that she had been ill yesterday. 
 
 341
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 "Ah, that's too bad. You need to get out. Suppose 
 you come out for a spin now the air's great. Then 
 couldn't we have dinner together?" 
 
 "Why " 
 
 "Please it's better for you than staying in the house." 
 
 She hesitated a moment. "It would be very nice, and 
 you'll take care of me, won't you not keep me out too 
 long, or let me eat wonderful things I shouldn't?" 
 
 "I'll be as stern as my Dad." 
 
 "I suppose I couldn't ask more ?" 
 
 "Not in the way of sternness the Spartan mother had 
 nothing on him." 
 
 "Then I'll put myself in your hands, if you'll wait 
 until I get myself all wrapped up." 
 
 Evelyn disappeared, and returned shortly with her fur 
 cap on, well veiled, and carrying her fur coat. Bruce 
 took it from her, and held it while she slipped into its 
 luxurious warmth. 
 
 "Now," she said, laying her muff and gloves and hand- 
 kerchief on the table, "I must speak to Martin." 
 
 While she was out of the room Bruce took up the hand- 
 kerchief and held it to his face. It gave forth the same 
 subtle fragrance that permeated all of her belongings. 
 He hesitated a moment, then thrust it in his pocket. 
 Evelyn, on her return, did not notice its absence. 
 
 They drove until seven, then dined, by her request, at 
 the Lafayette. She nibbled at a delicious wild duck and 
 drank sparkling Burgundy, and encouraged Bruce to tell 
 her a great deal about himself. 
 
 And Bruce, nothing loath, talked at length on his 
 favourite theme his father, who by turns was lavish 
 and tyrannical giving without stint so long as Bruce was 
 amenable to paternal rule, tightening up the purse strings 
 at the least sign of insubordination. 
 
 And then there was a sister who had married an Eng- 
 lish Earl; she was an awfully good sort; quite different 
 342
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 from his older sister, the widow of Stanwood Carter, 
 and first aid to the old man in the control of Bruce. 
 
 "I'm on the black list just now," he confided. "They 
 want me to go into Dad's office and learn all about real 
 estate. Ugh !" 
 
 "And what do you want to do?" she asked. 
 
 "Just now I guess I want to have a good time; but 
 you'll laugh I'd really like to be a doctor you know, 
 a fine surgeon." He waited to see if she thought that 
 intensely funny. 
 
 But she didn't ; rather she treated his confession with a 
 sweet seriousness that robbed him of all embarrassment. 
 And this was a new bond between them. He dropped his 
 flippancy and forgot that he was a young man of the 
 world, bent on seeing how far the pretty little actress 
 would go. 
 
 As Evelyn undressed that evening she faced herself in 
 the mirror with a little smile of triumph on her lips. 
 
 "But it isn't hard to find a man's weak spots they 
 have so many," she said wisely to herself. 
 
 The next morning answers came from two of the man- 
 agers to whom she had written. Both were courteous, 
 one even cordial, speaking of the pleasure she had given 
 him in Millicent, but both regretted that they had nothing 
 to offer her just now. Each would be pleased to bear 
 her in mind for the future. 
 
 Evelyn read these two letters as she drank her tea 
 and munched her toast. She laid them aside, thinking 
 that perhaps it didn't matter after all. 
 
 The afternoon brought a letter from William Mar- 
 lowe, asking her to come in to see him the first week in 
 January. He would like to talk to her about a spring 
 production. This, at least, was something to look for- 
 ward to, and on the strength of it Evelyn dressed and 
 went out to do some Christmas shopping. 
 
 343
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 Presents must be sent to the children in Kentucky, and 
 to her father and stepmother, and there was Martin, 
 and Ann, and a few others. Then she must send many 
 Christmas cards so that people wouldn't forget her dur- 
 ing her retirement. 
 
 She spent a happy afternoon going from shop to shop, 
 inspecting, pricing, buying Christmas gifts. She reached 
 home at six o'clock, tired out, and with one hundred dol- 
 lars of her small store gone. 
 
 It was a great deal more than she had meant to spend, 
 and just as she was beginning to feel anxious over her 
 expenditures the telephone rang and Bruce Winthrop 
 wanted to know if she wouldn't lunch with him to- 
 morrow. She would. Then he would call for her at one. 
 
 During the evening Ann and Tommy dropped in. They 
 drank highballs and talked of Ann's Christmas party. 
 At first Evelyn said that she couldn't come, but they 
 overruled her, and soon she found herself full of interest 
 in the details of the affair. Ann promised she would 
 meet a lot of interesting men, and some equally nice girls. 
 
 They departed at midnight and Evelyn drank another 
 highball and went to bed. 
 
 Ann Dwight's Christmas party was a great success. 
 The large studio lent itself admirably to decorative ef- 
 fects, and gave ample room for the free movement of 
 the fourteen guests. 
 
 Ann, Evelyn, Gene Hartley, the young playwright, 
 and the statuesque Claire Blaney represented the stage. 
 There were two painters, a broker, a banker, and class- 
 mates of Tommy's. The tall, blue-eyed, fair-haired girl 
 wrote poetry and was beloved of the banker. The stun- 
 ning woman with a smooth, young face under a high pile 
 of white hair was the wife of Ashton Marvin, the octo- 
 gena/ian steel magnate. 
 
 , "She's as stupid as she is beautiful, and I only asked 
 her because if this gets in the paper it looks well to have 
 344
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 one 'Mrs' on the guest list!" Ann confided to Evelyn, 
 as the latter was removing her wraps in the tiny bedroom. 
 
 By ten o'clock all of the guests had arrived and were 
 gathered about the beautifully decorated, brightly lighted 
 Christmas tree which stood in one corner of the studio. 
 Tommy, a huge, good-natured Santa Claus, distributed 
 the gifts, and made with each an appropriate, witty 
 speech. 
 
 After the fun of the tree had subsided, a screen was 
 removed from another corner of the room, disclosing 
 three tables. On them candles gleamed above white linen, 
 bright silver, and shining glass. Two silent, deft waiters 
 wheeled the tables into the centre of the room and sup- 
 per was served the best effort of a fashionable caterer. 
 There was champagne, and speeches, and shrieks of 
 laughter, and the Christmas spirit of good will. 
 
 At one o'clock the tables were whisked away, the rugs 
 rolled up, the Victrola set in motion, and dancing began. 
 
 At first Evelyn took no part, but sat on a divan be- 
 tween Bruce Winthrop and Harvey Myers, the well- 
 known painter of women. They had had a great deal of 
 champagne, and the talk was gay, and a bit daring. The 
 other men who were not dancing were attracted to this 
 corner, and soon Evelyn was holding a veritable court. 
 
 All the coquette in her was aroused. So many men 
 to please, so many to smile on interesting, diverse types. 
 The heavy-jawed broker, the young playwright, growing 
 a moustache to celebrate the success of his play, the 
 artist, Harvey Myers, with inscrutable grey eyes and an 
 international reputation. These men sat about her while 
 the other couples went through the mazes of the modern 
 dances. 
 
 Harvey Myers interested her most. He was more 
 complex, more mentally sophisticated than any man pres- 
 ent. He reminded her a little of Hale Johnston. Dur- 
 
 345
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 ing the supper he had looked at her critically, and said 
 abruptly, "I should like to paint you." 
 
 And she had answered, "What is it passion, ambition, 
 temper, or doom?" 
 
 He had replied with a startled look, and then a thought- 
 ful, "I don't know, but " 
 
 "Then I'll tell you when you begin to paint me, and 
 here's to the picture." She raised her glass, and he 
 joined her, while Bruce sat by, miserably jealous. 
 
 And all through the evening the inscrutable grey eyes 
 sought hers, and all through the evening Bruce sat by 
 her side, puffing violently cigarette after cigarette. Once 
 when the attention of the others was diverted to some 
 new dancing steps his hand closed over her wrist. "I'm 
 taking you home remember," he said fiercely. 
 
 She looked at him with shining, alluring eyes. "I won't 
 forget, Bruce." 
 
 "Come on, I want you to dance," he said, keeping his 
 hold on her wrist. 
 
 "Oh, no, I don't want to I don't feel " 
 
 "Of course you do you must " He drew her to 
 
 her feet and slipped his arm about her waist. 
 
 The Victrola was playing a deeply insinuating waltz. 
 The dancers walked, hesitated, dipped and swayed to it. 
 The spell of it crept into Evelyn's blood, mingling with 
 the intoxication of wine and flattery. 
 
 Never had she been so happy, never lifted so far be- 
 yond the dreary commonplaces of life. She danced 
 next with Harvey Myers, then with the young play- 
 wright, Hartley, and the other men followed. It seemed 
 that she had found the thing she had been seeking all 
 of her life, a perfect mode of expression. It was mar- 
 vellous, the sense of harmony and freedom, and the thrill 
 that came quivering deliciously through physical ex- 
 haustion. 
 
 At four o'clock the dancing ceased, and at a signal 
 346
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 from Ann all of the lights went out, and a waiter wheeled 
 into the room a table bearing a bowl of burning punch. 
 In the dark room it looked like a ball of fire advancing. 
 Candles surrounding the bowl were lighted, the fire ex- 
 tinguished, and then the cups were filled, while from the 
 Victrola came the plaintive wail of a Christmas carol. 
 
 A little later there were "good-byes" and congratula- 
 tions and "best wishes," and the weary, merry crowd was 
 trooping to the elevator to wait for the sleepy operator 
 to bring up his car. They stood about the entrance of 
 the building in the snowy darkness, calling for motor 
 cars and taxis. 
 
 When Bruce's car came up he helped Evelyn in and 
 then, without waiting for an invitation, Billy Harper 
 stepped in, declaring that there was no taxi for him, 
 and Bruce would just have to take him home. 
 
 Bruce's inclination was to throw him out bodily, but 
 Evelyn laughed and said of course he must come with 
 them. Whereupon a deeper gloom settled over the heir 
 to the Winthrop millions and he refused to speak to 
 either of his guests on the downtown drive. 
 
 Evelyn, fortified by the last cup of punch, scarcely 
 noticed the change from the gaiety and warmth of Ann's 
 studio to the cold darkness of the streets. Even the fact 
 that Bruce was in a jealous sulk only accentuated the 
 excitement of the evening. He said good night to her 
 without any reference to the engagement he had with her 
 for the day after Christmas. 
 
 But it mattered little to Evelyn; her spirits were too 
 high to be brought to earth by the bad temper of a boy- 
 ish admirer. 
 
 She let herself in with a latch key, switched on the 
 lights, and threw off her coat on a convenient chair. The 
 room was chilly, and she lighted the gas logs. She un- 
 dressed slowly, leaving her things where they dropped. 
 All the while she was thinking of Harvey Myers, and 
 
 347
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 his inscrutable eyes, and his immediate interest in her. 
 He had asked to call, and she had said that he might 
 come next Friday. 
 
 As she slipped into her soft white gown and began un- 
 doing the lustrous, fragrant hair, running her hand over 
 its length, admiring subconsciously its texture, she 
 thought what a wonderful thing it was to be young and 
 beautiful and possessed of a charm that never failed. 
 
 Evelyn slept until noon the next day, and was only 
 aroused then by a ring at the telephone. It was Bruce, 
 and he was ready to cut the family dinner and come for 
 her if she would say the word. But she refused, add' 
 ing that they would have their Christmas the next day 
 he should stay with his family to-day. 
 
 "What are you doing?" he asked suspiciously. 
 
 "I'm having a little girl who played a small part in my 
 play down here for dinner rescuing her from a Forty- 
 fifth Street rooming house." 
 
 "Say, that's bully of you! Could you use my car 
 this afternoon?" 
 
 "It would be splendid ; I could go for her and we 
 might have a ride to get up our appetites. Could we 
 have it at four?" 
 
 "Sure." 
 
 "And" she hesitated a moment over his name 
 "Bruce, the flowers are wonderful. I just caught a 
 glimpse of them." 
 
 "There's a little box inside. See you to-morrow ; good- 
 bye!" 
 
 Evelyn searched among the flowers and found a small 
 box which contained a bracelet of artistic design and 
 exquisite workmanship. 
 
 "Oh, he shouldn't!" she whispered, at the same time 
 slipping it over her wrist, and holding it off to admire the 
 effect. 
 
 Then she glanced over the other gifts. They were few 
 -348-
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 in comparison with those of last year, but flowers and 
 fruit and the two telegrams and many cards showed that 
 she was not forgotten. Just then Martin brought in an- 
 other box, and opening it, Evelyn discovered six perfect 
 gardenias, and with them the card of Harvey Myers. 
 
 In spite of the lassitude which enveloped her as a re- 
 sult of last night's indulgence, Evelyn's spirits were high 
 and she was ready to join in the pleasure she hoped to 
 give Margery Farrell. 
 
 Brace's car arrived at four, and she drove up to Forty- 
 fifth Street. Waiting before the brownstone house, it 
 scarcely seemed possible that only a few years ago she 
 and Bob had lived in this very house and struggled with 
 poverty and obscurity. Seated in the bright green car, 
 wrapped in the softest fur, waited on by the urbane Syl- 
 vester, the past seemed like a half-remembered dream. 
 
 Presently Margery Farrell was running down the steps 
 and after kissing Evelyn on the cheek settled down under 
 the big fur robe. 
 
 They gossiped pleasantly during the ride, and returned 
 to the apartment for dinner. 
 
 Waiting for her was a Christmas basket with the card 
 of Mr. Lawrence Strain. It contained a beautiful box 
 of candy, rare fruits, and covering the bottom of the 
 basket half a dozen bottles of champagne. 
 
 "Oh, what a gorgeous, delicious present!" Margery 
 cried, as they sounded the depths of the basket. 
 
 "We shall have a bottle of the champagne for din- 
 ner," Evelyn said. "I was going to wear a white ribbon 
 to-day, but could any one resist a bottle of this?" 
 
 "It must be wonderful to have such friends," Margery 
 said. 
 
 "Well, Mr. Strain isn't a friend he is he oh, he 
 can't be classified," Evelyn answered with a little laugh 
 and shrug of the shoulders. 
 
 The champagne helped the dinner a great deal, and 
 
 349
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 after it was over they returned to the living room. Evelyn 
 stretched herself on a divan, and Margery drew up a 
 chair and talked gaily in her bright, chirping voice. 
 
 She was radiant with pride that she had been selected 
 as her "Star's" sole Christmas guest. She envied the 
 gay, luxurious life Miss Lane led, and hoped that some 
 day she too would be so firmly established in the theat- 
 rical world. 
 
 Evelyn smiled sadly, cynically, in answer to this last 
 outburst, and her reply was, "If I had a nice home in In- 
 diana I'd take the next train there. But of course you 
 won't you are going to work hard and be a good girl, 
 and a great actress, aren't you, Margery?" 
 
 "I hope so," Margery answered fervently. 
 
 "So do I. Have a cigarette?" Evelyn asked as she 
 passed the box. 
 
 "No, thanks, I don't smoke. I suppose I'm awfully 
 provincial." 
 
 "Not at all it's lots better for your voice not to touch 
 them, but I've grown used to them," she said, as she 
 lighted a cigarette and drew in a deep puff of smoke, 
 sending it out in a long white stream through her nos- 
 trils. 
 
 At that moment Martin appeared with the coffee and 
 the liquer bottle. Evelyn sipped her coffee and after- 
 wards drained two tiny glasses of cognac. 
 
 She had grown suddenly restless, eager for excite- 
 ment, and Margery's gentle patter was tiring enough, 
 though she was making a heroic effort to make the girl's 
 evening a pleasant one. But her mind would wander 
 to thoughts of last night. The gay party in Ann's studio 
 the variety of entertainment, the food, lights, wine, and 
 the men who had said flattering things. The inscrutable 
 eyes of Harvey Myers, the sullen jealousy of Bruce, 
 and the keen interest of the young playwright, Gene 
 Hartley. He had asked to take her to see his new play. 
 350-
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 Would he remember? Had she made a deep impression 
 on him? 
 
 Oh, to be lying here listening to the chatter of this 
 child, while the gay, mad world was throbbing without 
 Music, lights, wine dancing the Christmas night away. 
 She was forgotten ; no one thought of her ; no man cared 
 for her oh, what a failure her life was ! 
 
 She was tempted to call Bruce on the telephone, to ask 
 him to come and take her away from this boredom. 
 Even the rapacious splendour of Lawrence Strain would 
 be better than this dulness. He would come gladly, and 
 look at her with covetous admiration, and if she en- 
 couraged him, he would lead her to a high mountain, 
 and show her the kingdoms of the earth. She sipped 
 her third tiny glass of cognac, wondering how she would 
 meet the temptation. 
 
 Then suddenly Evelyn became aware that there was a 
 lull in Margery's talk, and she was half conscious that a 
 question had been asked. In an effort to atone for her 
 rudeness, she rose from the divan, and led the way into 
 her bedroom, and there tried on Margery one of her 
 Paris hats. 
 
 "I've been thinking all evening that this would become 
 you wonderfully, and it does. I want you to have it 
 wear it to-morrow, and see if some one doesn't like you 
 in it." 
 
 Margery was profuse in thanks, and a short time later 
 said "good night," kissing Evelyn on the cheek, and 
 vowing that she had had the most wonderful Christmas 
 of her life. 
 
 After her departure, Evelyn returned to the divan. 
 The restlessness was passing, and she felt relaxed and 
 drowsy. The fourth glass of cognac seemed necessary 
 to perpetuate this new, delicious quiet. 
 
 Presently she undressed and crept into bed, saying that 
 the night would pass quickly if she were asleep. 
 
 351
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 Later Martin came into the living room to remove the 
 coffee tray. She shook her head as she looked at the 
 cognac bottle, and, tiptoeing to the bedroom, asked if 
 Miss Lane was all right if she needed anything. 
 
 "No," Evelyn answered from the darkness, "I'm going 
 to sleep. The drive, and your good dinner, and the 
 cognac have made me sleepy. I never take cognac when 
 I'm dining out ; it always makes me drowsy. Good night, 
 Martin." 
 
 Martin covered her up, lowered the window from the 
 top, and left the room. With a deep sigh of satisfac- 
 tion Evelyn heard the door close, and a few moments 
 later she was asleep. 
 
 But it seemed to her that only a few moments later 
 she awoke with a start. Her head was throbbing, her 
 heart beating with a fluttering rhythm, and every nerve 
 stretched to the breaking point. Her first impulse was 
 to shriek, but she conquered this, and reaching out 
 switched on the lights to look at the clock. 
 
 It was two o'clock two o'clock, and she would prob- 
 ably be awake until dawn. How she dreaded these long, 
 wakeful hours of the night, fraught as they were with 
 pitiless introspection. 
 
 The past welled up, stray incidents came a dinner 
 with Hale in Pensacola, some word of Hubbard's, and 
 scenes with Brandon. With no effort on her part they 
 came and she seemed powerless to check them or choose. 
 Some tyrannical operator flashed on the screen of her 
 mind pictures from the storehouse of memory without 
 consulting her wishes. 
 
 And mixed with these thoughts of the past were fears 
 for the future. The rapidly dwindling bank account, the 
 nervous shrinking from the theatre, and the recurring, 
 alarming heart attacks, made the path before her any- 
 thing but flower strewn. 
 352
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 She knew that it required the simplest living and 
 greatest care to keep herself in any sort of condi- 
 tion. Excitement, tension, stimulants, lack of fresh air 
 soon told on her delicate constitution. Since Brandon's 
 death her nerves had been in a wretched state, and for 
 some time there had been a dull pain through the shoul- 
 ders and at times across the chest, that filled her with 
 anxious foreboding. 
 
 During the day time she refused to recognise it, but 
 through the wakeful hours of the night, when lowered 
 vitality offered little resistance to the rampant ego, she 
 brooded over her symptoms and quivered with fear at 
 their possible meaning. 
 
 But the chief terror of the night was the fear of the 
 return of poverty. She knew it so well, knew every 
 aspect of it from the old days. Then she had suffered 
 without knowing what affluence meant but now! 
 
 Suppose no work came? In a few months she would 
 be penniless. Her jewels and furniture would have to 
 go, but oh, the shame of pawning things. She conjured 
 up absurd pictures of the process of pawning. Should 
 she drive up in a taxi and walk boldly into the shop so 
 that passers-by might think her a rich woman looking 
 for bargains in a pawn shop, or should she go heavily 
 veiled ? What would the pawnbroker think ? Would he 
 know that she was Evelyn Lane, so recently a Broadway 
 Star? 
 
 "Oh, oh," she cried, turning over and burying her face 
 in the pillow. "This is so foolish, it must stop." 
 
 She switched off the lights and made a determined 
 effort to sleep. The chimes in a neighbouring church 
 announced the passing of the hour. Three o'clock, then 
 four, and, unable any longer to endure the throbbing 
 nerves and torturing thoughts, Evelyn reached in the 
 drawer of a bedside table for a sleeping powder. 
 
 353
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 The week that followed made up for the dullness of 
 Christmas day. There were luncheons, drives, and din- 
 ners with Bruce, then with Tommy and Ann. Harvey 
 Myers called, and Gene Hartley did not forget her. The 
 finale of the week was the New Year's party given by 
 him. 
 
 There was a box party, and then supper for eight at 
 the Claridge. The Old Year went out, hurried into ob- 
 livion with horns and whistles and bells. The group 
 about the table raised their glasses and drank to the New 
 Year. 
 
 Evelyn, flushed with excitement and champagne, looked 
 bravely down the vista of the coming months and resolved 
 that success should once more perch on her banner. She 
 was not going to lose the position she had gained. 
 
 Later in the evening, they drank a toast to her, and 
 then Gene Hartley drove her home. She made an effort 
 to talk lucidly and steadily to him, for he was speaking 
 of his new play, and saying that he would like her to 
 create a part in it. He wasn't sure that she would like 
 it for it was really a man's play with a "clothes horse 
 heroine," but her personality might redeem it. 
 
 After this he came often to see her, and spent lavishly 
 the money that rolled in weekly from his Broadway suc- 
 cess. He had the dance craze, and he and Evelyn made 
 the rounds of the dancing places. They learned all of 
 the new steps and got to dance so well together that he 
 laughingly suggested they take a "flier into vaudeville." 
 
 Bruce Winthrop came, too, growing more serious and 
 devoted with each visit. All the attitudes and manner- 
 isms of the gay young man about town dropped away 
 from him and a chivalrous tenderness showed itself in 
 his regard for her. 
 
 He was anxious about her health, interested in her 
 plans, and extremely jealous of every other man who 
 came about. He didn't approve of Harvey Myers, and 
 354
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 he didn't like Gene Hartley, and he couldn't understand 
 why Evelyn wasted her time on them. Myers kept her 
 sitting in a cold studio while he painted her picture, and 
 Gene Hartley didn't know how to drive a car; he was 
 uneasy when he thought of her trusting herself to his 
 care. Bruce felt convinced that he was the one man 
 in the world who understood and appreciated her and had 
 for her a disinterested affection. 
 
 Evelyn played on this with all of the artistry at her 
 command. Apparently she wiped out other men and 
 other interests and gave herself up to his companionship. 
 
 "I want to do everything for you," he said in his 
 solemn, boyish way. "I wake up in the night sometimes 
 and wonder if you are all right." 
 
 "Oh, I'm always all right Martin is such a capable 
 person ; she looks after me as though I were two years 
 old." 
 
 "She should do that. It's not right for a girl like you 
 to be alone in the world. Gee, when I think of all the 
 ugly, stupid, sloppy girls I know who have 'mamma' and 
 'papa' and a couple of aunts to look after them, and 
 here's little you " 
 
 "Well, bless your heart," she said with a soft little 
 laugh, "you are a nice boy to think about me in that 
 way." 
 
 "Gee ! when I think of all you've done in the world by 
 yourself I'm proud of you." 
 
 "Oh, I didn't do it myself; I had some very good 
 friends," she said seriously. 
 
 "Well, you made the friends, didn't you?" 
 
 "Yes ; well, go ahead, Bruce, since you are determined 
 to give me a laurel wreath. I'm not going to say an- 
 other word. But if you'll let me I'll pick off a few of 
 the leaves, and give them to you." 
 
 "Ah ; I haven't got anything coming to me. Last night 
 I had an awful row with my Dad, and he told me that I 
 
 355
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 was about the most worthless thing that ever encumbered 
 the earth." 
 
 "Oh, Bruce " 
 
 "Maybe he's right, but a fellow doesn't like to hear 
 it, especially when you've got to go in for real estate to 
 be a worthy citizen." 
 
 "But why not? You do want to be something more 
 than an idler, don't you ?" 
 
 "Yes, but " 
 
 "One line is as interesting as another if you go in 
 with the right spirit." 
 
 "Look here; are you campaigning with my enemies?" 
 
 "I don't know, but I'm wishing you'd be more tactful 
 with your father, and I would like to see you beginning 
 some kind of serious living." 
 
 "Well," he said thoughtfully, "I'm not anxious to 
 dance around all my life." Then came a sudden in- 
 spiration. "Would you like me to go in with the old 
 man ?" 
 
 Evelyn nodded. "I should like it better than anything 
 I know." 
 
 "I'll do it, then I'll tell him to-night, and to-morrow 
 I'll be on the job and whenever you want to buy a mil- 
 lion dollars' worth of real estate just give me a call." 
 
 And while she was setting Bruce on the right path 
 Evelyn was going twice a week to the studio of Harvey 
 Myers to sit for her portrait. 
 
 Myers worked in a high-ceilinged room with a great 
 northern window. There was a large open fireplace 
 which he never used, as the glow interfered with the 
 quality of light he wanted on her. A few of his earlier 
 paintings hung about, and several rare bronzes stood on 
 the mantel and a table in a far corner. A grand piano, 
 couch, and a few beautifully carved chairs completed the 
 furnishings of the studio. 
 
 At first its austerity chilled Evelyn, used to colour, 
 -356-
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 softness, and plenty of heat, but she soon fell into an 
 appreciation of her surroundings and looked forward to 
 her sittings. 
 
 He was doing her seated in a high-backed chair, 
 dressed in the grey velvet, which lent itself admirably to 
 paint effects. The picture was done in the bold, free 
 manner of the artist, and he caught with marvellous 
 exactness the psychological interest of Evelyn's face the 
 "something" in her eyes that Bratton Wayne had tried 
 to define. He caught the sweetness, the sadness, the 
 questioning that Life had never answered, and he re- 
 corded the weakness that was her charm and her tragedy. 
 
 The soft grey dress, the white hands, the pale face, with 
 the appealing eyes, as the centre of interest, and the dark, 
 vaguely patterned background gave the effect of fragile 
 beauty overcast by a gloom that it could not understand, 
 and against which it was powerless. 
 
 When Myers had finished for the day, Evelyn made 
 tea and they sat and talked, or he played for her on the 
 grand piano. He interested her greatly. He had none 
 of the enthusiastic egotism of the young playwright, none 
 of the solemn boyishness of Bruce. He was supple- 
 minded, quick in his readings of character, accurate in 
 his judgments, detached and wholly unconventional in 
 his attitude towards life and art. His interest in Evelyn 
 seemed entirely artistic, and, though it piqued her van- 
 ity, she was glad that it was so. 
 
 One afternoon during the sitting a woman arrived 
 a handsome, robust young woman of perhaps twenty- 
 eight, with perfect skin and clear eyes. Myers called 
 her "Miriam," and seemed glad to see her. He intro- 
 duced her to Evelyn as Miss Trainor, and from the talk 
 which ensued it was evident that the relation between 
 them was close. She addressed him with an air of pro- 
 prietorship, and when he replied there was a new tone in 
 
 357
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 his voice. Harvey Myers painted the spirit, but he loved 
 the flesh. 
 
 "Which is just as well for me," Evelyn said as she 
 left the studio and hurried home to keep an engagement 
 with Bruce Winthrop. 
 
 January passed and February rushed by. Soon after 
 the opening of the year Evelyn had interviewed William 
 Marlowe, who had written her of a part in a spring pro- 
 duction. But he informed her that in view of the uncer- 
 tain state of things theatrical, he had postponed the play 
 to the next fall. If she were not engaged he would 
 like to talk to her some time during the summer. 
 
 Evelyn returned from this interview re-living the sen- 
 sations that had followed the death of Brandon, and for 
 days afterwards she struggled against depression and 
 hysteria. Then, to shake it off, she plunged into the 
 gaiety and excitement that her new circle of friends 
 offered. 
 
 For some time vague plans of getting work came to 
 her, but with the passage of time they vanished, and she 
 gave her thoughts to the "way out" that lay nearest to 
 hand. 
 
 On the first day of March, she remembered after- 
 wards looking at the calendar while it was happening, 
 Bruce Winthrop asked her to marry him.
 
 CHAPTER THIRTY 
 
 AND Evelyn accepted him. They were very happy, 
 though neither was blind to the obstacles that lay 
 in the path of their happiness. Bruce was entirely de- 
 pendent on the generosity of a tyrannical, devoted fa- 
 ther. And his father was not apt to sanction his mar- 
 riage to a girl out of his own sphere especially a girl 
 of the stage. 
 
 For two years there had been friction between the 
 father and son on account of the latter's lack of interest 
 in the source of the family fortune. The elder Winthrop 
 had inherited his wealth from his father, and he had 
 worked, planned and schemed until he had doubled his 
 inheritance. And he expected the same of Bruce, but 
 Bruce had resisted all pressure until he found himself in 
 love with Evelyn, and anxious to make something of 
 himself for her sake. 
 
 Not understanding, but taking it as a sign that the 
 boy was at last coming to his senses, Winthrop senior 
 showed himself ready to meet his son more than half 
 way. And as the days went on and Bruce showed that 
 he not only had surrendered, but had done so in a spirit 
 of sincerity and whole-hearted interest, the older man 
 dropped his sharp, fault-finding ways, and a new har- 
 mony was established. 
 
 Bruce reported to Evelyn the progress of events and 
 was full of confidence that in a short time he would be 
 able to tell his father of his engagement with some hope 
 of a favourable hearing. 
 
 Evelyn was not so certain, but she encouraged him, 
 finding that his frank boyishness aroused the latent ma- 
 ternal instinct to a surprising degree. 
 
 359-
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 She called him "my boy" as she stroked his hair and 
 discussed with him plans for their future. 
 
 They were to go to Italy on their honeymoon Evelyn 
 had never been to Italy, and she longed for it, "for the 
 lazy, beautiful life one could lead there." 
 
 "We must go where it is romantic, Bruce, where the 
 water is a deep blue, and the sunshine a wonderful gold, 
 and the moon perhaps the Italian moon will be more 
 beautiful than the Swiss." And with her head resting 
 on Bruce's shoulder, and feeling the pressure of his arm 
 about her waist, she sighed a little regretfully over the 
 memory that the mention of the Swiss moon stirred. 
 Life made so many promises and fulfilled so few. 
 
 No one was told of the engagement but Tommy and 
 Ann, and though they were cordial in their congratula- 
 tions, Evelyn felt that neither of them regarded it as a 
 practical arrangement. 
 
 "Of course," Ann said when they were alone, "Tommy 
 and I are engaged, too, but we can't marry until his old 
 man dies. And if Tommy should get tired of waiting, 
 why his family will pay me well for the damage he has 
 done my young affections." And Ann smiled wisely. 
 
 "Oh, but Ann " 
 
 "Why not? I'm awfully fond of Tommy, but I know 
 men, and I don't purpose to be left with a lot of wrinkles, 
 and an empty purse, after all of the fellows I've turned 
 down for him." 
 
 "But would his family pay ?" Evelyn asked. 
 
 "I rather think they would. Tommy is a great letter 
 writer, and I have kept them all," Ann said with an 
 emphatic nod. "Of course, I won't ever have to use 
 them, but I believe in a girl protecting herself." 
 
 "Why, so do I," Evelyn agreed, "but " 
 
 "You'd never do it," Ann cut in. "People have been 
 'doing you' all of your life, and they'll keep on." Then, 
 fearing she had overstepped the bounds of friendship, 
 360
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 she added, "I'm glad you are going to have Bruce to 
 look after you ; he's a nice boy." 
 
 The pearls of Ann's worldly wisdom produced a de- 
 cidedly depressing effect on Evelyn, and she found her- 
 self thereafter avoiding Tommy and Ann, who were con- 
 stant reminders of the obstacles that stood in the way 
 of her marriage to Bruce. 
 
 This suited Bruce admirably, since he wanted her all 
 to himself, and gradually she withdrew almost entirely 
 from the gay crowd who had helped her kill the winter. 
 
 Bruce left the office at three and came as fast as the 
 green car would bring him to the apartment. If the 
 weather permitted they motored into the country, dined 
 at some wayside inn, or returned for dinner and the 
 theatre. 
 
 Their happiness had almost the idyllic quality of first 
 love it was Bruce's first serious love, and Evelyn was 
 pre-eminently adaptable. 
 
 At times restless spells came, and it was difficult to 
 live up to the ideal Evelyn that Bruce had created. Some- 
 times he bored her, and often she was reminded that he 
 was just twenty-four, and she was close to thirty; that 
 he was a boy, and she a woman who had lived and 
 suffered and "died many times." But for the most part 
 she was so low in vitality that the desire for excitement 
 and variety and mental stimulation had no ground to root 
 in. It was good to drift lazily through the days towards 
 the haven that Bruce offered. 
 
 Then the inevitable happened, and the peace of the 
 days was shattered. Some zealous friend warned Bruce's 
 sister, who in turn warned her father, and a general ex- 
 plosion followed. 
 
 The Winthrop lawyer gathered a detailed account of 
 Evelyn's past. Club gossip and the surmises of her co- 
 workers were laid before Bruce as facts. He hurried 
 
 -361-
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 to her, she denied everything, he believed her, and re- 
 turned to his father, aflame with indignation. 
 
 Unable to reason with the boy, his father took sterner 
 measures to bring him to his senses. His allowance was 
 stopped, the office closed against him, and all credit cut 
 off. 
 
 Bruce appealed, sulked, raged, and ran to Evelyn for 
 comfort. And in spite of her own pain and mortifica- 
 tion she did her best for him. He urged her to marry 
 him anyway. He could earn a living. She shook her 
 head. 
 
 "Father will forgive us once the thing is done." 
 
 "Oh, no, he wouldn't he'd never forgive you and 
 he'd pursue me with his hatred. I couldn't, Bruce. I 
 just couldn't." She had glimpsed his father and sister 
 once at the Opera, and she knew there was nothing to 
 be expected from them in the way of softness. 
 
 "Well, suppose we are poor other people are poor, 
 and stand it." 
 
 "You've never been poor you don't know how awful 
 it is. You think it's romantic; it isn't; it's hideous 
 there aren't words to tell how hideous it is." 
 
 "Well, what are we going to do ?" he asked desperately. 
 "I can't give you up I won't, I won't," he repeated 
 doggedly. 
 
 Just about this time Evelyn's lease expired, and added 
 to the trouble that Bruce was giving her was the prob- 
 lem of a place to live. 
 
 She dared not renew the lease of the expensive apart- 
 ment in view of the uncertain state of her finances. 
 
 Harvey Myers had once told her of some studios 
 around Washington Square, and one day she went down 
 to investigate them. She found one, a large, high- 
 ceilinged room on the top floor of a well-kept old house. 
 A small bedroom and bath opened off the studio proper, 
 and though the plumbing was not modern, and one had 
 362
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 to depend on a grate fire in the winter time, Evelyn 
 decided that it would do, especially as the price was just 
 one-third of what she was paying for her apartment. 
 
 She went home and wrote Bruce a note, asking him 
 to give her three days to think it over. She didn't want 
 him to come, or even telephone during that time, and she 
 hoped at the end of the three days to give him a definite 
 answer. 
 
 She sent down enough furniture to make the place 
 habitable, called in an auctioneer, and disposed of the 
 rest. With the money thus acquired she paid Martin 
 her overdue wages and told her that she would not be 
 able to keep her any longer. 
 
 A new hardness in her mistress prevented any emotion 
 on Martin's part, though it was with great reluctance 
 that she left Miss Lane to look after herself. 
 
 "My daughter and I are going to open a rooming house 
 on Forty-sixth Street, and I'm leaving my address so 
 that you can send for me if you ever need me. If you 
 are ever sick or anything let me know, Miss Lane." 
 
 Evelyn shook hands with her and gave her a little gold 
 pin for the youngest grandchild, and wished her "the 
 best of luck." 
 
 It spite of their long association, Evelyn saw her go 
 without regret. She wanted to be alone, away from 
 everything that reminded her of the past. Never had 
 the instinct of flight been so strong within her. 
 
 On the third day of Bruce's exile Evelyn was estab- 
 lished in the downtown studio. The janitress had 
 scrubbed the floors, washed the paint and windows, and 
 laid rugs. She called up her sixteen-year-old son, and, 
 under Evelyn's direction, they arranged furniture and 
 hung pictures, and by nightfall the studio had assumed 
 a pleasing, home-like appearance. The tiny bedroom was 
 sweet and clean with its pretty draperies and cheerful 
 
 363
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 pictures. Even the old-fashioned bathroom had been 
 made fit for human use. 
 
 Evelyn was tired from the day's exertions, but after 
 the departure of the janitress and her son she sat down 
 at the desk and wrote to Bruce, releasing him, and ad- 
 vising him to make friends with his father. 
 
 "Neither of us knows how to be poor, Bruce. I am 
 afraid of it, and you would hate it oh, how you would 
 hate it. I've given up the apartment; you won't be able 
 to find me, so please don't try. Be sensible, and work 
 out of it. Oh, Bruce, I always bring bad luck with me 
 I don't know why." 
 
 She finished the letter, went out and dropped it in a 
 mail box. Then she wandered on until a bench in 
 Washington Square invited her. She sat down and 
 breathed in the fresh spring air there was a caress in 
 it and a promise. 
 
 Somehow hope was born in her. She had broken with 
 the old life, the life that represented Brandon and arti- 
 ficial success. Was she strong enough to rise again this 
 time legitimately? 
 
 She would try, try hard, and if God would only help 
 a little prayer forced its way from her heart to the 
 God who lurked behind the stars in the night sky. She 
 leaned back, looking at the stars, thinking, planning, 
 aspiring. 
 
 For the next few days Evelyn read the papers eagerly, 
 and on the fifth day she ran across an interview with 
 Bruce Winthrop, who was sailing for a visit to his sister, 
 Lady Janet Clagston. Mr. Winthrop had tried to avoid 
 the reporters, but they had cornered him and asked him 
 numerous questions. They found him irritable and un- 
 communicative, and he refused absolutely to comment on 
 the rumour that his engagement to a well-known actress 
 had just been broken. 
 364
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 In a short time the quiet of the studio and the mo- 
 notony of her daily life palled on Evelyn, and she sent 
 a note to Gene Hartley acquainting him with her new 
 address and asking him to come help her kill the demon, 
 boredom. 
 
 He came immediately and was full of admiration for 
 her new home. It might not be so comfortable as the 
 old place, but it had a lot more character and atmos- 
 phere. 
 
 They had a pleasant chat over a cup of tea, went to 
 the Brevoort for dinner and afterwards drove up Fifth 
 Avenue and through the Park in an open taxicab. On 
 the way home he suggested that they stop somewhere and 
 have a dance. Evelyn thought it would be great fun, 
 and it was long after midnight before either of them 
 thought of the taxi which was waiting below. 
 
 The next evening she went with him to the opening 
 of a summer musical show, and afterwards they had 
 supper with Tommy and Ann. 
 
 No word was said of Bruce, though Evelyn could see 
 that Ann was bursting with the desire to talk about him. 
 She arrived at the studio the next afternoon, and told 
 a harrowing story of Bruce's despair upon the receipt 
 of Evelyn's letter. 
 
 "I thought he would lose his mind. He came to Tom- 
 my and me, and we all tried to find you. We tried to 
 bribe the postman to tell us your change of address, and 
 we called up everybody we could think of." 
 
 "I just dropped out it was the only way. His family 
 oh, well, you know." 
 
 "I know, my dear, but why did you let it come to an 
 issue? Why didn't you pretend it was all off?" Ann 
 asked. 
 
 "Bruce is headstrong. I couldn't do anything with 
 him. He never thought of anything, but marriage," 
 Evelyn said, looking at Ann with honest eyes. 
 
 -365-
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 "The poor lamb what a lot he's got to learn," Ann 
 said. "Well, he'll be back as soon as it blows over." 
 
 "I don't want him back I wouldn't go through with 
 it again for anything," Evelyn said with a shiver. "Let's 
 not talk about it let's have a highball, and forget it." 
 
 "Oh, my dear, I oughtn't to touch a thing but just 
 a wee bit of Scotch. I love it, but I think it makes me 
 stout I gained a pound last week." 
 
 "What a tragedy!" Evelyn exclaimed. 
 
 "Nothing could be worse. I'm going to 'phone Tommy 
 to come for us at six. Shall he bring along Gene Hart- 
 ley?" 
 
 "Yes," Evelyn answered as she mixed the highballs. 
 
 Thus the life which her engagement had interrupted 
 was resumed. The afternoons were crowded with en- 
 gagements, and in the evening there were dinners, thea- 
 tre parties, roof gardens, and always dancing. They 
 made motor trips to nearby resorts, and there was more 
 dancing, flirtations, drinking, and late hours. Energy, 
 vitality, time burned up to achieve a "good time !" 
 
 During the spring and early summer, Evelyn paid 
 several visits to a pawn shop, and from each visit she 
 returned in the grip of a levelling spell of depression. 
 
 She tried to cut down expenses, but she had to dress, 
 and she was far too nervous to make her own gowns 
 and hats as she had in the old days. The studio was 
 inexpensive, and she ate little enough at home, but the 
 janitress had to be paid for every slight service, and 
 there were taxicab hire, her share of "treats" when she 
 and Ann were alone, and numerous extravagant habits 
 that she had acquired, and could not shake off. 
 
 But these thoughts came only after a visit to the 
 pawnbrokers. In the whirling gaiety of the summer 
 there was little time for fear and introspection. Some- 
 thing would happen ; something had always happened. 
 
 And as if to corroborate this statement, one morning 
 -366-
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 a letter arrived from William Marlowe, asking her to 
 come in to see him before noon on Thursday. 
 
 Evelyn came from his office with a contract which 
 called for her appearance in a play that he was to pro- 
 duce in September. She was to create the leading femi- 
 nine role, opposite a male star, and to receive for her 
 services two hundred and fifty dollars a week. She re- 
 turned to the studio radiantly happy, and filled with good 
 resolutions. 
 
 There would be no more mad pursuit of pleasure, no 
 more late hours ; and the stimulants which flared up her 
 vitality at the expense of her weak heart should be 
 stopped immediately. She would get herself in good 
 physical condition for the ordeal of rehearsals. 
 
 Marlowe had looked at her critically and in his glance 
 she had read that he had thought her prettier than she 
 now appeared. She had been prettier for during the 
 last few months she had left nothing undone that would 
 rob her of health and beauty. Why, oh, why had she 
 been such a fool? 
 
 But that was a thing of the past; now all would be 
 changed careful living and right thinking and hard 
 work when the rehearsals started. 
 
 She sent word to her friends that she was going away 
 for a little rest in order to be ready for the new play 
 she would notify them of her return. 
 
 For a week Evelyn stuck bravely to her plan, but in- 
 stead of the improvement that she had expected so con- 
 fidently, at the end of seven days she felt really ill. Sleep 
 would not come until the wee small hours, then she 
 dropped into a restless, dream-haunted doze that deep- 
 ened into a heavy stupor through the morning hours. 
 She awoke around noon, feeling inert, stupid, and often 
 in pain. 
 
 The making of the tea and toast which constituted 
 her breakfast seemed a herculean task, and since she 
 
 367
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 had no real desire for food, it was sometimes neglected 
 until late in the afternoon. 
 
 She tried walking, but heat and fatigue soon drove 
 her in to lie through the long afternoon on her divan, 
 trying to read improving books. 
 
 But the evenings were hardest to get through the 
 long, lonely evenings after a lonely dinner in some ob- 
 scure restaurant where she was not likely to meet any 
 one she knew. Several nights she sat for hours on a 
 bench in Washington Square forgetting herself in watch- 
 ing the endless procession of people that traversed the 
 square. 
 
 On her way home, Evelyn bought the evening paper, 
 and read, lying on the divan with a shaded lamp on a 
 table throwing its glow over her. 
 
 The bright spot made by the light accentuated the 
 gloom of the large room. The deep shadows in the 
 corners were filled with vague terrors. She half ex- 
 pected shapes to body themselves forth from the dark- 
 ness. There was a curious sensation, if she could lie 
 perfectly still, hold her breath, and peer intently enough 
 something would appear. 
 
 Sometimes in her great curiosity fear would depart, 
 and she made little experiments with the shadows. Then 
 terror would sweep over her, and, springing from the 
 divan, she would turn on all of the lights. 
 
 On such an occasion near the end of the second week, 
 when she stood in the room quivering with fear, the tele- 
 phone rang sharply. It cut across her tense nerves and 
 she screamed, then stood for a moment unable to move 
 towards the telephone. 
 
 The friendly, cheerful voice of Harvey Myers greeted 
 her. He was visiting a friend across the way, and had 
 just seen her lights go up. They were going up to the 
 Astor Roof would she come with them? 
 
 "Yes, I should like to. Give me ten minutes to dress." 
 -368-
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 Oh, the relief! Evelyn dressed hastily, selecting her 
 prettiest summer gown and her most becoming hat. 
 
 She ran into the studio to look into the long mirror 
 and stood for a moment fascinated by her own image. 
 Her face was pale paler than it had ever been a mar- 
 ble white, and her large, appealing eyes burned with a 
 new, wild intensity she was tragically beautiful. 
 
 "Once in a life time, one looks so," she whispered, and 
 then she hoped that the marvellous beauty would last un- 
 til Harvey Myers came. 
 
 And it did. He looked at her with fresh interest and 
 genuine admiration. 
 
 "You grow more wonderful day by day I shall fall 
 in love with you yet," he said, then, reluctant to take his 
 eyes from her, he turned to introduce his friend. 
 
 The three journeyed uptown and spent a thoroughly 
 enjoyable evening. To Evelyn the music was entrancing, 
 the talk of the men interesting and stimulating, and the 
 fragrant claret cup the ideal drink for a warm July night. 
 
 After this outing she slept well and was awake at nine 
 the next morning, feeling rested and cheerful. Plainly, 
 solitude and boredom were disastrous to her she needed 
 companionship and excitement. 
 
 She called up Ann and heard that she and Tommy were 
 motoring down to Long Beach for a swim and dinner. 
 If Evelyn would come along they would get another man 
 to make up a party of four. Evelyn would be glad to 
 come she was tired of the rest cure. 
 
 A few days later the last of the good resolutions went 
 out of commission. She stopped at a shop on her way 
 home and ordered a bottle of Scotch Whiskey, Holland 
 Gin, French Vermouth, and several siphons of Vichy. 
 That evening there was to be an informal gathering in 
 her studio, and they all liked the cheering cup. 
 
 One night during the latter part of August, Evelyn 
 returned from a long motor trip with Ann, Tommy, and 
 
 369
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 young Clarence Hart to find in her mail box a letter 
 from the Marlowe office. 
 
 It was a notification that rehearsals of the new play 
 would begin next Monday morning at eleven o'clock at 
 the Gaiety Theatre, and under separate cover they were 
 sending her part. 
 
 The blue-backed part came the next morning. Evelyn 
 tried to feel elated, assuring herself that she was most 
 fortunate, that if she made good in this part it would 
 mean better things with the Marlowe firm. 
 
 But oh, the dreary stupidity of the part, the stiff, un- 
 lifelike quality, and the words, and words she had to 
 learn. Evelyn's association with Brandon had taught her 
 a great deal about plays, and in this part she saw that 
 there was nothing for her but talk and expensive clothes. 
 
 In the afternoon paper she read an announcement of 
 the cast, and the interesting fact that Edward Paver had 
 been engaged to produce the play. She smiled as she 
 thought of poor, pale, incompetent Paver how he had 
 run to and fro at the bidding of Tilton and Miss Hart- 
 well always patient, meek, and perspiring. To-day he 
 was a successful director, in demand in spite of the 
 ragged performances that were the result of his efforts. 
 
 After the first spell of depression had passed, Evelyn 
 began to feel a great interest in the experience before 
 her. For so many months she had been away from the 
 theatre and all thoughts of acting that when she entered 
 the theatre on Monday morning a sensation of strange- 
 ness enveloped her. It was difficult to realise that she 
 had come back to familiar ground. 
 
 But soon the strangeness wore off. The handshake 
 of Paver, who remembered her well, dispelled it, and 
 she dropped naturally into the old routine. 
 
 They rehearsed three weeks and went out of town for 
 the opening. The strain of rehearsals, the worry of 
 getting suitable clothes, and difficulty of finding a good 
 370
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 maid to take along, had told on Evelyn's strength, 
 and after the first performance she was in a state verging 
 on collapse. 
 
 The next day she was unable to leave her bed, but 
 managed to pull herself together in time for the evening 
 performance. 
 
 She worked through the week, sick in body, and filled 
 with a wild, protesting dread of the opening in New 
 York. She would be a failure; the critics would score 
 her, Marlowe would be displeased, and she never again 
 would be able to get an engagement. 
 
 Saturday night Evelyn telegraphed to Martin to meet 
 her at the train Sunday morning. The new maid had 
 irritated her with her incompetence and garrulity. 
 
 And what a relief it was to see the broad-bodied, ca- 
 pable Martin waiting at the gate when the train pulled 
 into the station. Martin helped her to a cab and they 
 drove to the studio. 
 
 Evelyn pillowed her head on Martin's shoulder, and 
 clung to her hand like a sick, frightened child. All over 
 town the signboards announced the opening of Mr. Ed- 
 mund Campbell in "The One Chance," supported by Miss 
 Evelyn Lane. But Evelyn scarcely noticed the sign- 
 boards as the taxi raced towards home. 
 
 "I'll take care of you, Miss Evelyn," Martin mur- 
 mured. "You'll be all right just be quiet." 
 
 "They won't let me be quiet," Evelyn answered. "I've 
 got to act to-morrow night, and I'm not well not 
 well " 
 
 "I know, I know, but you'll feel better," Martin as- 
 sured her. 
 
 Martin carried her up the stairs, so light a burden she 
 scarcely felt it. She laid Evelyn gently on the divan 
 while she made the bed. 
 
 All that day Martin hovered over her with gentle 
 words, nourishing broth, and soothing massage. She
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 wanted to send for a doctor, but Evelyn refused to have 
 one. 
 
 "They would tell me to rest, and I can't. If I should 
 ever need one send for Dr. Holt." 
 
 That night Martin slept on the couch in the studio, 
 waking at the least sound from the bedroom. Evelyn 
 slept fairly well, and the next morning she was more 
 cheerful in mind and stronger in vitality. She rested 
 through the day and at seven o'clock was dressed and 
 waiting for the taxicab. 
 
 Once in the dressing room she felt more like herself 
 than she had for weeks. There were letters, telegrams 
 and flowers to cheer her up. 
 
 Members of the "Millicent" Company had remem- 
 bered her. Old and new friends, Tommy and Ann, 
 Gene Hartley, Harvey Myers, and in one corner of the 
 room stood a box of magnificent American Beauty roses 
 with the card of Lawrence Strain attached. So he had 
 not forgotten her. There were orchids from Hale John- 
 ston, who always remembered her on opening nights 
 what a long, long time ago they had been friends. 
 
 While she looked over the flowers "half hour" was 
 called, and Martin reminded her that it was time to 
 dress. She seated herself before the make-up table and 
 began the old, familiar routine of cold cream, grease 
 paint, rouge, eye shadows, powder, and the whitening of 
 the neck and arms. Evelyn went through it mechanic- 
 ally, then stood up for Martin to slip the first act dress 
 over her head. 
 
 "Martin," she said, "I must have something to steady 
 
 me. I feel so faint so " Her breath came in little 
 
 gasps. 
 
 Martin called a stage hand and sent him out for a 
 bottle of brandy. When it came she poured out a drink 
 for Evelyn. The next moment the first act was called. 
 372
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 Evelyn sat in the wings waiting for her cue. Martin 
 was at her side, holding her hand. 
 
 The cue came, and Evelyn walked on, smiling bravely. 
 She was greeted by a burst of applause from the friendly 
 first-night audience. 
 
 She went through the scenes with spirit and abandon. 
 Over and over she was saying to herself, "I've got to get 
 through it's my last chance I've got to get through." 
 
 The second act tried her sorely, and Martin was forced 
 to repeat the dose of brandy to fortify her for the last 
 act, which was long and taxing. While Evelyn was on 
 the stage, Martin dispatched a boy to the front of the 
 house to telephone for Dr. Holt, asking him to come 
 to the theatre at once. She was afraid that a sinking 
 spell might follow this exertion on Evelyn's part. 
 
 To Evelyn the act seemed interminable. She was 
 growing weaker, her heart pumping with a slow, heavy 
 rhythm. The footlights blinded her ; the audience seemed 
 lost in a great black pit occasionally from this pit issued 
 the faint sound of clapping hands. 
 
 She touched the furniture to help her across the stage. 
 She struggled with all of her ebbing strength to keep on 
 talking. She turned beseeching, desperate eyes to the 
 actors, who made every effort to help her through the 
 scenes. 
 
 The act worked to its close, and as the curtain fell to 
 the sound of hearty applause, Evelyn fainted in her 
 stage lover's arms. 
 
 Martin rushed on the stage, bore her to the dressing 
 room, and laid her on a couch which she had had brought 
 in. Shortly after Dr. Holt arrived. 
 
 "We must get her to the hospital at once," he said after 
 a short examination. 
 
 "To-night?" 
 
 "Yes, no time to be lost there's not much chance." 
 
 Evelyn died three hours later in Dr. Holt's Private 
 
 373
 
 The Least Resistance 
 
 ___^^_ ___^_ 
 
 Hospital. It was the deepest, stillest time of the night 
 the hour that had always been full of terror for her. 
 But there was no terror now a flutter of the eyelids, a 
 convulsive sigh, and the struggle was over. 
 
 Martin knelt by the bedside, her stolid frame shaken 
 with grief. A white-robed nurse moved softly about the 
 room. Dr. Holt bent over the still figure and pushed the 
 soft hair back from the serene white brow. He shook 
 his head sadly. 
 
 "Oh, the girl the girls on the stage !" he said aloud. 
 
 374
 
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