d of money. But I soon found that I needed a hobby to keep me from
thinking too much, and that brings me rapidly to the stage.

"'A hobby' under such circumstances must sound curious: really, it is
mere common sense. The paths of diplomacy I discovered were very steep,
the movement of the wheels was very slow. When I had done everything
possible and could think of nothing else, I had a great deal of time on
my hands. Painting and music were not to my taste; acting was, for I had
always had, like most young people, a liking for the stage. Also, like
most young people, I believed I had the dramatic instinct. I got to know
a manager--with money things are easy--and he gave me a small part, a
few lines, in a new play. There was nothing in that, but what followed
was really my one piece of luck. In return for a consideration he
allowed me to understudy the lead, never dreaming my capacity would be
tested. A fortnight later my principal slipped on a fruit-skin and broke
her leg. (The incident gave rise to a correspondence on the Banana Fall
in one of the cheaper papers.) I played the part that night, and, unlike
most young people, my belief in myself was justified. I was a success.
The manager, rejoicing that he need not look for a new principal, plumed
himself on his discernment, and 'boomed' me for all he was worth.

"Well, I was a success; but naturally I had to pay the price. In this
case the price was my sister's affection. From the first she had
objected to my going on the stage: it was a case of conscientious
prejudice, and that is one of the stubbornest things on earth. She had
written daily letters of appeal, and all my arguments were useless. I do
not wish to dwell on this ... enough to say that there grew an
estrangement ... now, we do not even write...."

"Strange," said Lionel thoughtfully, "how even the best can be
obstinate. I hope that time may----"

"That reminds me!" said the lady briskly, shaking off her sadness and
glancing at the clock, "I shall be on again shortly. Will you do
something for me? Thank you--I was sure you would. At a quarter to
eleven go out and get me a cab or a taxi. Now, it is important that we
should not be seen leaving the theater together--there will probably be
spies. Oh, yes! I know it sounds absurd, but in this you must be guided
by me. Get the cab and drive back by devious ways to the stage-door.
There wait for me. I shall be ready by eleven-fifteen at the latest.
That is all.