with you. So on, so on, so
on. I give you your worthless life. Go!'" He completed his generosity
by giving Canby and Tinker the smile, after which he concluded much more
cheerfully: "Something like that, Mr. Canby, and we'll have some real
Punch in your play."

"But there isn't any chance for that kind of a scene in it," the
playwright objected. "It's the study of an egoist, a disagree--"

"There!" exclaimed Potter. "That's it! Do you think people are going to
pay two dollars to see Talbot Potter behave like a cad? They won't do
it; they pay two dollars to see me as I am--not pretending to be the
kind of man your 'Roderick Hanscom' was. No, Mr. Canby, I accepted your
play because it has got quite a fair situation in the third act, and
because I thought I saw a chance in it to keep some of the strength of
'Roderick Hanscom' and yet make him lovable."

"But, great heavens! if you make him lovable the character's ruined.
Besides, the audience won't want to see him lose the girl at the end and
'Donald Grey' get her!"

"No, they won't; that's it exactly," said Potter thoughtfully. "You'll
have to fix that, Mr. Canby. 'Roderick Hanscom' will have to win her
by a great sacrifice in the last act. A great, strong, lovable man,
Mr. Canby; that's the kind of character I want to play: a big, sweet,
lovable fellow, with the heart of a child, that makes a great sacrifice
for a woman. I don't want to play 'egoists'; I don't want to play
character parts. No." He shook his head musingly, and concluded, the
while a light of ineffable sweetness shone from his remarkable eyes:
"Mr. Canby, no! My audience comes to see Talbot Potter. You go over
these other acts and write the part so that I can play myself."

The playwright gazed upon him, inarticulate, and Potter, shaking himself
slightly, like one aroused from a pleasant little reverie, turned to the
waiting figure of the girl.

"What is it, Miss Malone?" he asked mildly. "Did you want to speak to
me?"

"You told Mr. Packer to ask me to wait," she said.

"Did I? Oh, yes, so I did. If you please, take off your hat and veil,
Miss Malone?"

She gave him a startled look; then, without a word, slowly obeyed.

"Ah, yes," he said a moment later. "We'll find something else for Miss
Lyston when she recovers. You will keep the part."

V

When Canby (with his hair smoothed) descended to the basement dining
room of his Madison Avenue boarding-house that evening, his table
co