Gale was sincere and earnest, and Azalea thrilled to the strong tenderness in his voice as he urged her.
But she hesitated to consent.
"I can't, Ray," she said, at last. "Truly, I can't. They'd—they'd turn me off—"
"Oh, Azalea, what nonsense! They'd do no such thing!"
"Yes, they would. You don't know Bill. He's good and generous and kind,—but he hates anything like deceit,—and almost worse, he hates the whole moving-picture racket. I don't mean the pictures themselves, exactly,—but the idea of anybody of his being in them. And, oh, Ray,—it isn't only myself,—but I took—I took—"
"I know,—you took the kiddy."
"Yes, I did. It didn't seem any harm, at first, and then, one day when I brought her home,—she was sleepy,—unusually so, I mean, and Nurse said she had been given soothing sirup,—and—I found out afterward she had! Mrs. Bixby had given her some, to keep her quiet in the picture, you know. Of course, I never dreamed of such a thing,—why, Ray, that little girl is as dear to me,—almost,—as she is to Patty! I wouldn't harm a hair of her blessed little curly head! And I'd never have allowed a drop of that sirup, if I'd known it! But I just gave her to Mrs. Bixby to hold, while I changed my costume,—Mrs. Bixby seems a good woman—"
"Oh, come now, I don't believe it hurt the child."
"You don't know anything about such things. I don't know much, but I know they must never have a bit of that stuff! Anyway, Ray?—we must go in now,—don't give my secret away until I give you permission, will you?"
"No; if you'll promise to think it over and try to believe what I've told you,—that it's best to tell all."