"Is that your final answer?" he asked, after a pause.
"It is," she replied defiantly.
"Then listen to me," declared Gordon, his face flushed with sudden anger. "Either you pledge your word to accept me on my own terms here and now, or you will never make your entrance on that stage. Ah," he added, as Martha reeled at the sudden realization of how completely he controlled the situation, "that hits your vanity, does it? A nice little story for the newspapers to-morrow. Theater closed, audience dismissed, new star such a pitiful failure that she is too frightened to appear."
"But that isn't true—that isn't true," cried Martha.
"Isn't it? Try and convince the public otherwise."
"I will, and that curtain shall go up to-night" Martha faced him bravely enough, though her courage almost failed her.
"Try it and see whose orders will be obeyed. Listen—the orchestra has finished the overture. Think carefully, for your final answer now decides your fate. You are at the parting of the ways. A future with me, everything you desire, or back to your days of poverty."
Weldon appeared as Martha seemed to hesitate.
"Shall I ring up the curtain?" he asked quietly.
"Wait," replied Gordon. He turned to Martha. "Your answer?"