Just at the moment Jimmy Challoner was very well known in that
particular neighbourhood; he was generous with his tips for one thing,
and for another he had a cheery personality which went down with most
people.

He went round to the stage door as if he were perfectly at home there,
as indeed he was. The doorkeeper bade him a respectful good evening,
and asked no questions as he went on and up the chill stone passage.

At the top a door on the right was partly open. A bar of yellow light
streamed out into the passage. A little flush crept into Challoner's
youthful face. He passed a hand once more nervously over the
refractory kink before he went forward and knocked.

A preoccupied voice said, "Come in."

Challoner obeyed. He stood for a moment just inside the door without
speaking.

It was not a very large room, and the first impression it gave one was
that it was frightfully overcrowded.

Every chair and table seemed littered with frocks and furbelows. Every
available space on the walls was covered with pictures and photographs
and odds and ends. The room was brilliantly lit, and at a
dressing-table strewn with make-up boxes and a hundred and one toilet
requisites, a girl was reading a letter.

At first glance she looked very young. She was small and dainty, with