“Let’s go back.  I’m cold—­so dreadfully cold,” she moaned clinging to his arm.

They turned in silence.  There was nothing to say.  The sunset glory had faded now.  Only a pale, cold mauve tint was left where the flame had blazed.  A star or two had come out.  The river flowed sinister black, showing white humps of foam here and there.

At the Hostelry Jean Lambert met them in the hall.

“Tony, where have you been?  We have been trying everywhere to locate you.  Cecilia died this afternoon.  You have to take Miss Clay’s place tonight.”

Tony’s face went white.  She leaned against the wall trembling.

“I forgot—­I forgot about the play.  I can’t go to Mexico.  Oh, what shall I do?  What shall I do?”

CHAPTER XXXII

DWELLERS IN DREAMS

The last curtain had gone down on the “End of the Rainbow” and Tony Holiday had made an undeniable hit, caught the popular fancy by her young charm and vivid personality and fresh talents to such a degree that for the moment at least even its idol of many seasons, Carol Clay, was forgotten.  The new arriving star filled the whole firmament.  Broadway was ready to worship at a new shrine.

But Broadway did not know that there were two Tony Holidays that night, the happy Tony who had taken its fickle, composite heart by storm and the other Tony half distracted by grief and trapped bewilderment.  Tony had willed to exile that second self before she stepped out behind the foot lights.  She knew if she did not she never could play Madge as Madge had the right to be played.  For her own sake, for Max Hempel’s sake because he believed in her, for Carol Clay’s sake because Tony loved her, she meant to forget everything but Madge for those few hours.  Later she would remember that Dick was dying in Mexico, that she had hurt Alan cruelly that afternoon, that she had a sad and vexed problem to solve to which there seemed no solution.  These things must wait.  And they had waited but they came crowding back upon her the moment the play was over and she saw Alan waiting for her in the little room off the wings.

He rose to meet her and oblivious of curious eyes about them drew her into his arms and kissed her.  And Tony utterly miserable in a daze of conflicting emotions nestled in his embrace unresisting for a second, not caring any more than Alan himself what any one saw or thought upon seeing.

“You were wonderful, belovedest,” he whispered.  “I never saw them go madder over anybody, not even Carol herself.”

Tony glowed all over at his praise and begged that they might drive a little in the park before they went home.  She had to think.  She couldn’t think in the Hostelry.  It stifled her.  Nothing loath Alan acquiesced, hailed a cab and gave the necessary orders.  For a moment they rode in silence Tony relaxing for the first time in many hours in the comfort of her lover’s presence, his arm around her.  Things were hard, terribly hard but you could not feel utterly disconsolate when the man you loved best in all the world was there right beside you looking at you with eyes that told you how much you were beloved in return.