Two years of hard work and disappointment served to dispel the girl’s illusions.  She learned to appreciate at its true value that masculine admiration which, in an unusual degree, she had the power to excite.  Those of her admirers who were in a position to assist her professionally were only prepared to use their influence upon terms which she was unprepared to accept.  Those whose intentions were strictly creditable, by some malignancy of fate, possessed no influence whatever.  She came to regard herself as a peculiarly unlucky girl, being ignorant of the fact that Fortune, an impish hierophant, imposes identical tests upon every candidate who aspires to the throne of a limelight princess.

Matters stood thus when a new suitor appeared in the person of Sir Lucien Pyne.  When his card was brought up to Rita, her heart leaped because of a mingled emotion of triumph and fear which the sight of the baronet’s name had occasioned.  He was a director of the syndicate in whose production she was playing—­a man referred to with awe by every girl in the company as having it in his power to make or mar a professional reputation.  Not that he took any active part in the affairs of the concern; on the contrary, he was an aristocrat who held himself aloof from all matters smacking of commerce, but at the same time one who invested his money shrewdly.  Sir Lucien’s protegee of today was London’s idol of tomorrow, and even before Rita had spoken to him she had fought and won a spiritual battle between her true self and that vain, admiration-loving Rita Dresden who favored capitulation.

She knew that Sir Lucien’s card represented a signpost at the cross-roads where many a girl, pretty but not exceptionally talented, had hesitated with beating heart.  It was no longer a question of remaining a member of the chorus (and understudy for a small part) or of accepting promotion to “lead” in a new production; it was that of accepting whatever Sir Lucien chose to offer—­or of retiring from the profession so far as this powerful syndicate was concerned.

Such was the reputation enjoyed at this time by Sir Lucien Pyne among those who had every opportunity of forming an accurate opinion.

Nevertheless, Rita was determined not to succumb without a struggle.  She did not count herself untalented nor a girl to be lightly valued, and Sir Lucien might prove to be less black than rumor had painted him.  As presently appeared, both in her judgment of herself and in that of Sir Lucien, she was at least partially correct.  He was very courteous, very respectful, and highly attentive.

Her less favored companions smiled significantly when the familiar Rolls-Royce appeared at the stage door night after night, never doubting that Rita Dresden was chosen to “star” in the forthcoming production, but, with rare exceptions, frankly envying her this good fortune.

Rita made no attempt to disillusion them, recognizing that it must fail.  She was resigned to being misjudged.  If she could achieve success at that price, success would have been purchased cheaply.