"Business," replied Helena. "Has to go to some meeting in Chicago--he's
leaving his wife and the private car here. What did you come at this
hour for?"

"Lines for the next act," said Madison; "but the Flopper's got it all,
and he'll put you on." He stepped toward Helena and slipped his arm
around her waist. "Come on, it's early yet, let's go for a little walk.
The Flopper'll excuse us, and I--"

"I thought you said," Helena interrupted, disengaging herself quietly,
"that we had to play the game to the limit and take no chances."

"Well, so I did," admitted Madison, and his arm crept around her again;
"but I guess we've earned a little holiday and--"

"'Nix on that,' I think was what you said," said Helena with a queer
little laugh, drawing away again. "And I really think you were right,
Doc--we ought to play the game without breaking the rules, and
so--good-night"--and she turned and ran from him into the cottage.

Madison stared after her in a sort of helpless state of chagrin.

"Mabbe," said the Flopper, "mabbe she's lonely."




--XV--