-a manly man--but so were dozens of others of her wide
acquaintance. His talent was undeniable, but he was still obscure,
undeveloped, a failure as an architect, unambitious as a critic, though
that was his best point. His articles in _The Blazon_ possessed unusual
insight and candor. Beyond this she knew as little of him as of any
other of the young newspaper men who sought her acquaintance, and yet he
had somehow changed her world for her in these two meetings.

She let the letter fall on her breast, and lay with her eyes fastened
upon a big rose in a pot on the window-sill--the gift of another
admirer. "I do know more of him. I know that he is strong, sincere. He
does not flatter me--not even to win me to his play. He does not hasten
to send me flowers, and I like him for that. If I were to take his point
of view, all my roles and half my triumphs would drop from me. But _is_
there not a subtle letting-down, a disintegration? May he not be right,
after all?"

She went over once more the talk of the few moments they had spent
together, finding each time in all his words less to criticise and more
to admire. "He does not conceal his hate," she said; and she might have
added, "Or his love," for she was aware of her dominion, and divined,
though she did not whisper it even to herself, that his change of
attitude with regard to her roles came from his change of feeling
towards her. "He has a great career. I will not allow him to spoil his
own future," she decided, at length, in her own large-minded way. And
there were sweet, girlish lines about her mouth when her mother came in
to inquire how she felt.

"Very much like work, mamma, and I'm going to catch up on my
correspondence. Mr. Douglass is coming to take breakfast with us, to
talk about his play. I wish you would see that there is something that a
big man can eat."

* * * * *

The note she sent in answer to his was like herself--firm, assured, but
gentle:

"MR. DOUGLASS,--'What came you out for to see--a reed shaken with
the wind?' I know my own mind, and I am not afraid of my future. I
should be sorry to fail, of course, especially on your account, but
a _succes d'estime_ is certain in your case, and my own personal
following is large enough--joined with the actual lovers of good
drama--to make the play pay for itself. Please come to my
combination breakfast and luncheon, as you promised, and w