Yours truly, CLANCY DEANE.
She addressed the letter to Grannis in care of the Zenda Films and then
sealed them both. As she applied the stamps to the envelopes, she
wondered whether or not she should have signed her name in the Zenda
letter, "Florine Ladue."
She had thoroughly convinced herself that she had nothing to fear from
the use of that name. The frights of yesterday and to-day were
vanished.
Still, she had dropped the name of "Florine Ladue" as suddenly as she
had assumed it. Zenda would write or telephone for her. If she signed
herself as "Florine Ladue," she'd have to tell Mrs. Gerand about her
_nom de théâtre_. And Clancy was the kind that keeps its business
closely to itself. She was, despite her Irish strain, distinctly a New
England product in this respect--as canny as a Scotchman.
So it was as "Clancy Deane" that she sent the letters. She walked to the
corner of Thompson Street, found a letter-box, and then returned to the
lodging-house. Up-stairs again, she heard the clang of the
telephone-bell below. Her door was open, and she heard Mrs. Gerand
answering.
She heard her name called aloud. She leaped from the chair; her hand
went to her bosom. Then she laughed. She'd given Miss Sally Henderson
her address and Mrs. Gerand's 'phone-number to-day. She managed to still
the tumultuous beating of her heart before she reached the telephone.
Then she smiled at her alarms. It was Mrs. Carey.
"Do be a dear thing, Miss Deane," she said. "I'm giving an impromptu
dance at the studio, and I want you to come over."
Clancy was delighted.
"What time?" she asked.
"Oh, come along over now and dine with me. My guests won't arrive until
ten, but there's lots of fixing to be done, and you look just the sort
of girl that would be good at that. Sally Henderson's been telling me
what a wonder you are. Right away?"
"As soon as I can dress," said Clancy. Her step was as light as her
heart as she ran up-stairs.