She is a woman without a moral conscience, whose entire life is
dictated by a small mental operation. Coming to New York as a
beautiful girl, she entered the chorus. She became famous for her
beauty. On every hand were the stage-door vultures ready to give her
anything that a woman's heart could desire, from clothes to horses,
carriages, money and what-not; but, with a girl-like instinct, she
fell in love with a man connected with the company, and, during
all the time she might have profited and become a rich woman by the
attentions of these outsiders, she remained true to her love, until
finally her fame as the beauty of the city had waned. The years told
on her to a certain extent, and there were others coming, as young as
she had been and as good to look at; and, where the automobile of the
millionaire had once been waiting for her, she found that, through her
faithfulness to her lover, it was now there for some one else. Yet she
was content with her joys, until finally the man deliberately jilted
her and left her alone.

What had gone of her beauty had been replaced by a keen knowledge of
human nature and of men, so she determined to give herself up entirely
to a life of gain. She knows just how much champagne should be
drunk without injuring one's health. She knows just what physical
necessities should be indulged in to preserve to the greatest degree
her remaining beauty. There is no trick of the hair-dresser, the
modiste, the manicurist, or any one of the legion of people who devote
their time to aiding the outward fascinations of women, which she does
not know. She knows exactly what perfumes to use, what stockings
to wear, how she should live, how far she should indulge in any
dissipation; and all this she has determined to devote to profit. She
knows that as an actress she has no future; that the time of a woman's