"Can't I go?" she asked eagerly.
"My God, no!"
He put his hands in his pockets and surveyed her compassionately. Belonging as he did to the class that shelters its women it still hurt him to see women engaged in fighting for bread. It was more desperate still when they fought for honor too, or held it above the price of bread.
"Why did you send me to the Pall Mall if you knew they wouldn't want—any one straight-laced?"
"I can't ask every girl who comes to me for a job to sign an affidavit concerning her morals. Why are you on the stage at all if you've got different ideas to the others? You haven't an earthly. Might as well buy a toothbrush."
"Buy a toothbrush?"
"To sweep out an Augean stable." He scribbled some addresses on a half sheet of paper. "There's just a chance these aren't filled up. Mention my name. I don't hold out any hope, though." He hesitated for a minute. "Are you bound to go on at this? Haven't you a home to go to?"
"I'm bound to go on," she said, trying to keep the desperate note out of her voice.
"Well, good luck." Stannard held open the door for her.
"Poor devil!" he said as he shut it.