She was sitting up in bed, staring at him with shining
eyes.
"Well, how was it?" she asked, quickly.
Mogley's face wore a look of jubilant joy.
"Success!" he cried. "Tremendous hit! The house roared! Called before the
curtain four times and had to make a speech!"
Mogley's ecstasy was admirably simulated. It was a fine bit of acting.
Never before or since did Mogley rise to such a height of dramatic
illusion.
"Ah, Tom, at last, at last! And, now, I must live till morning, to read
about it in the papers!"
Mogley's heart fell. If the papers would mention the performance at all,
they would dismiss it in three or four lines, bestowing perhaps a word
of ridicule upon him. She was sure to see one paper, the one that the
landlady's daughter lent her every day.
Mogley looked at the illuminated clock on the steeple across the way. A
quarter to twelve.
"My love," he said, "I promised Hexter I would meet him to-night at the
Five A's Club, to arrange about salary and so forth. I'll be gone only an
hour. Can you do without me that long?"
"Yes, go; and don't let him have you for less than fifty dollars a week.
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