you are forced, if only for your own comfort, to be civil to all those around you. And civility and familiarity are almost synonymous back of the foot-lights. A very curious habit increases this familiarity—somebody wants a little rouge, somebody wants a little powder; "would you mind lending a pair of stockings to somebody else?" At first you resent this lack of recognition as to mine and thine, but after awhile you grow to be like your comrades.
At first—and now I am going to say something that because I am a woman I can say—at first, you bit your lip and blushed at the freedom with which words were used—words that you had never heard before; you lost your opportunity to stop such conversation when it began, and you will be surprised to discover, later on, how first you listen and then indulge in it yourself. I do not know why it is that back of the painted curtain there seems to crop up, like weeds, most of the small vices. You cannot get out of it by isolating yourself. I will prove this by telling you something.
FROM PERSONAL KNOWLEDGE
A woman, a young woman and a pretty woman, who has managed to keep herself free from reproach, and who is a well-known actress, never mingles with the company. Between the acts she
