"Yes. Here are their names crossed off my list.
'Lola Montague' and 'Marie Fortesque.' I fancy," said Mr. Gray,
chuckling, "they expected to see those names on the bills."
"But, oh, Mr. Gray!" cried Nan Sherwood, feeling in no mood for laughing
at silly Sallie Morton and Celia Snubbins. "Don't you know where they
live--those two poor girls?"
"Why--no. They were extras and we get plenty of such people," said the
director, carelessly. "Now, the girl who sent them is as daring a girl as
I ever saw. I'm sorry she's hurt, or sick, or something, for although
Jenny Albert has little 'film charm,' as we call it, she is useful--
"There!" suddenly broke off Mr. Gray. "You might try Jenny's address. She
sent those girls here. She probably knows where they live."
He hastily wrote down the street and number on a card and handed it to
Nan. "Sorry. That's the best I can do for you, Miss Sherwood."
He turned away, taking up his own particular worries again.
"And, goodness me, Nan!" sighed Bess, as they went out of the cluttered
studio, back through the passage, and so into the courtyard and the
street again. "Goodness me! I think _we_ have the greatest lot of other
people's worries on our shoulders that I ever heard of. We seem to
collect other folk's troubles.
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