corners of which always lurked mirth and mischief; for he possessed
above all things an inexhaustible fund of dry humor. His lines seldom
provoked rough laughter; rather, silent chuckles.

Warrington's scowl abated none. In business, women were generally
nuisances; they were always taking impossible stands. He would find
some way out; he was determined not to submit to the imperious fancies
of an actress, however famous she might be.

"Sir, will you aid a lady in distress?" The voice was tremulous, but
as rich in tone as the diapason of an organ.

Warrington looked up from his cigar to behold a handsome young woman
standing at the side of his table. Her round, smooth cheeks were
flushed, and on the lower lids of her splendid dark eyes tears of
shame trembled and threatened to fall. Behind her stood a waiter, of
impassive countenance, who was adding up the figures on a check, his
movement full of suggestion.

The dramatist understood the situation at once. The young lady had
ordered dinner, and, having eaten it, found that she could not pay for
it. It was, to say the least, a trite situation. But what can a man do
when a pretty woman approaches him and pleads for assistance? So
Warrington rose.

"What may the trouble be?" he asked coldly, for all that he instantly
recognized her to be a person of breeding and refinement.

"I--I have lost my purse, and I have no money to pay the waiter." She
made this confession bravely and frankly.