as your model. You have managed to scrape through this time. Don't risk
it again. You are young. There is still time to make a fresh start. It
only needs will-power. Meanwhile, lend me something to wear. They are
going to take a week drying my clothes.'

* * * * *

There was a rehearsal at the Beach Theatre that evening. George
attended it in a spirit of resignation and left it in one of elation.
Three days had passed since his last sight of the company at work, and
in those three days, apparently, the impossible had been achieved.
There was a snap and go about the piece now. The leading lady had at
length mastered that cue, and gave it out with bell-like clearness.
Arthur Mifflin, as if refreshed and braced by his salt-water bath, was
infusing a welcome vigour into his part. And even the comedian, George
could not help admitting, showed signs of being on the eve of becoming
funny. It was with a light heart and a light step that he made his way
back to the hotel.

In the veranda were a number of basket-chairs. Only one was occupied.
He recognized the occupant.

'I've just come back from a rehearsal,' he said, seating himself beside
her.

'Really?'

'The whole thing is different,' he went on, buoyantly. 'They know their
lines. They act as if they meant it. Arthur Mifflin's fine. The
comedian's improved till you wouldn't know him. I'm awfully pleased