it. Go on with your work, Charles.'

'I've finished for to-day.... Will you let me take you out to dinner?'

'No. I've promised Verschoyle.'

'Damn! You oughtn't to be seen with him so much. People will say you
have left me for his money.'

'I thought artists didn't care what people say.'

'They don't, Clara. They don't.'

'You must be sensible, Charles. You're not safe. You can't take risks
until you are successful.'

'Then I won't succeed. I won't go on.... A most unfortunate thing has
happened. Clott has vanished with all the money in the bank.... I let
him sign the cheques.'

'Oh! Oh! you fool, Charles.'

'He kept getting cheques out of me.'

'How?'

'He said he'd tell the police.'

Clara stamped her foot. Abominable! How abominable people were....
She had to protect Charles, but if she was with him she exposed him to
the most fearful risk. Was ever a girl in so maddening a position?

What made it worse was that her attitude towards him had changed. She
was no longer so utterly absorbed in him that she could only see life
through his eyes. Apart from him she had grown and had developed her
own independent existence.

'How much did he take?'

'Two hundred and ten pounds. We can't prosecute him, or he'll tell.
He knows that, or he wouldn't have done it.'

'Where is he?'

'I don't know. Laverock met him the other day, and asked him about
some committee business. He had the impudence to say that he had
resigned, and had come into money, so that his name was now no longer
Clott but Cumberland.'

And again Clara found herself in her heart saying, 'It is my fault.'

It was all very well for Charles to believe that the world was governed
by magic. Art is magic, but she ought to have known that it is a magic
which operates only among a very few, and that the many who are moved
only by cunning are always taking advantage of them.... Poor Charles!
Betrayed at every turn by his own simplicity, betrayed even by her
eagerness to help him!

'It is too bad,' said Clara, with tears in her eyes. 'We can't do
anything. Besides I would never send any one to prison, whatever they
did. But what a dirty mean little toad.... How did he find out?'

'I don't know. He's the kind of man who hangs about the theatre and
borrows five shillings on Friday night.'

Gone was the magic of the stage, gone the power in Charles. He looked
just a tired, seedy fellow, more than a little ashamed of