ady become amply sufficient;
again and again, flinging his wearied body upon a cot in some strange
room, he had called himself an unmitigated ass, and sworn loudly that
he would certainly quit in the morning. Yet the girl held him. He did
not completely realize how or why, yet some peculiar, indefinite
fascination appeared to bind his destinies to her; he ever desired to
see her once again, to be near her, to feel the charm of her work, to
listen to the sound of her voice, to experience the thrill of her
presence. So strong and compelling became this influence over him that
day after day he held on, actually afraid to sever that slight bond of
professional companionship.

This was most assuredly through no fault of hers. It was at
Shelbyville that she first spoke to him, first gave him the earliest
intimation that she even so much as recognized his presence in the
company. The house that particular night was crowded to the doors, and
she, completing a piece of work which left her cheeks flushed, her
slender form trembling from intense emotion, while the prolonged
applause thundered after her from the front, stepped quickly into the
gloomy shadows of the wings, and thus came face to face with Winston.
His eyes were glowing with unconcealed appreciation of her art.
Perhaps the quick reaction had partially unstrung her nerves, for she
spoke with feverish haste at sight of his uprolled sleeves and coarse
woollen shirt.

"How does it occur that you are always standing directly in my passage
whenever I step from the stage?" she questioned impetuously. "Is there
no other place where you can wait to do your work except in my exit?"

For a brief moment the surprised man stood hesitating, hat in hand.

"I certainly regret having thus unintentionally offended you, Miss
Norvell," he explained at last, slowly. "Yet, surely, the occasion
should bring you pleasure rather than annoyance."

"Indeed! Why, pray?"

"Because I so greatly enjoy your work. I stood here merely that I
might observe the details more carefully."

She glanced directly at him with suddenly aroused interest.

"You enjoy my work?" she exclaimed, slightly smiling. "How extremely
droll! Yet without doubt you do, precisely as those others, out
yonder, without the slightest conception of what it all means.
Probably you are equally interested in the delicate art of Mr. T.
Macready Lane?"

Winston permitted his cool gray eyes to brighten, his firmly s