the third year that he settled down to
definite work. Then all his energies were concentrated on a new play--_The
Gipsy_. A young woman of Bohemian origin is suddenly taken with the
nostalgia of the tent, and leaves her husband and her home to wander with
those of her race. He had read portions of this play to his friends, who at
last succeeded in driving Montague Ford, the popular actor-manager, to
Hubert's door; and after hearing some few scenes he had offered a couple of
hundred pounds in advance of fees for the completed manuscript. 'But when
can I have the manuscript?' said Ford, as he was about to leave. 'As soon
as I can finish it,' Hubert replied, looking at him wistfully out of pale
blue-grey eyes. 'I could finish it in a month, if I could count on not
being worried by duns or disturbed by friends during that time.'

Ford looked at Hubert questioningly; then he said 'I have always noticed
that when a fellow wants to finish a play, the only way to do it is to go
away to the country and leave no address.'

But the country was always so full of pleasure for him, that he doubted his
power to remain indoors with the temptation of fields and rivers before his
eyes, and he thought that to escape from dunning creditors it would be
sufficient to change his address. So he left Norfolk Street for the more
remote quarter of Fitzroy Street, where he took a couple of rooms on the
second floor. One of his fellow-lodgers, he soon found, was Rose Massey, an
actress engaged for the performance of small parts at the Queen's Theatre.
The first time he spoke to her was on the doorstep. She had forgotten her
latch-key, and he said, 'Will you allow me to let you in?' She stepped
aside, but did not answer him. Hubert thought her rude, but her strange
eyes and absent-minded manner had piqued his curiosity, and, having nothing
to do that night, he went to the theatre to see her act. She was playing a
very small part, and one that was evidently unsuited to her--a part that
was in contradiction to her nature; but there was something behind the
outer envelope which led him to believe she had real talent, and would make
a name for herself when she was given a part that would allow her to reveal
what was in her.

In the meantime, Rose had been told that the gentleman she had snubbed in
the passage was Mr. Hubert Price, the author of _Divorce_.

'Oh, it was very silly of me,' she said to Annie. 'If I had only known!'

'Lor', he don't mind;