Anna the Adventuress

On Saturday mornings there was deposited on the plate of each guest at

breakfast time, a long folded paper with Mrs. White's compliments.

Anna thrust hers into her pocket unopened, and for the first time left

the house without a smile upon her face. She was practically destitute

of jewellery. The few pence left in her purse would only provide a

very scanty lunch. Another day of non-success would mean many

disagreeable things.

And even she was forced to admit to herself that this last resource of

hers was a slender reed on which to lean. She mounted the stairs of

the theatrical agent's office with very much less than her usual

buoyancy, nor did she find much encouragement in the general

appearance of the room into which she was shown. There was already a

score or more of people there, some standing up and talking together,

others seated in chairs ranged along the wall. Beyond was another

door, on which was painted in black letters: MR. EARLES,

Strictly Private Every one stared at Anna. Anna stared back at every one with undaunted

composure. A young man with shiny frock coat and very high collar,

advanced towards her languidly.

"Want to see Mr. Earles?" he inquired.

"I do," Anna answered. "Here is my card. Will you take it in to him?"

The young man smiled in a superior manner.

"Have to take your turn," he remarked laconically. "There's twenty

before you, and Mr. Earles is going out at twelve sharp--important

engagement. Better come another morning."

"Thank you," Anna answered. "I will take my chance."

She removed some posters from a chair, and seated herself coolly. The

young man looked at her.

"Unless you have an appointment, which you haven't," he said, "you'll

only waste your time here."

"I can spare it," Anna answered suavely.

The young man entered into a lively little war of words with a

yellow-haired young person near the door. Anna picked up an ancient

magazine, and began to turn over the pages in a leisurely way. The

conversation which her entrance had interrupted began to buzz again

all around her. A quarter of an hour passed. Then the inner door

opened abruptly. A tall, clean-shaven man came out and walked rapidly

through the room, exchanging greetings right and left, but evidently

anxious to avoid being detained. Mr. Earles himself stood upon the

threshold of his sanctum, the prototype of the smart natty Jew, with

black hair, waxed moustache, and a wired flower in his button-hole. A

florid-looking young woman rose up and accosted him eagerly.

"I'm next, Mr. Earles," she exclaimed. "Been sitting on the doorstep

almost for two hours."

"In a minute, in a minute," he answered, his eyes fixed upon Anna.

"Reuben, come here."

The young man obeyed the summons. His employer retreated into the

further apartment, leaving the door ajar.