You're evidently not yourself. Go home
and rest for a few days. We'll get along with your
understudy, Miss Esmond. When Mr. Crossley wants
to put you in again, he'll send for you. You mustn't
be discouraged. I know how beginners take these
things to heart. Don't fret about it. You can't fail
to succeed.''
Mildred rose and, how she never knew, crossed the
stage. She stumbled into the flats, fumbled her way to
the passageway, to her dressing-room. She felt that
she must escape from that theater quickly, or she would
give way to some sort of wild attack of nerves. She
fairly ran through the streets to Mrs. Belloc's, shut
herself in her room. But instead of the relief of a storm of
tears, there came a black, hideous depression. Hour
after hour she sat, almost without motion. The afternoon
waned; the early darkness came. Still she did not
move--could not move. At eight o'clock Mrs. Belloc
knocked. Mildred did not answer. Her door opened
--she had forgotten to lock it. In came Mrs.
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