all. And here you come out of a real world and say to
me--"

"What did you think I was going to say?" demanded Miss Adair, pressing
so close to him that it was impossible for him to administer another
shake.

"I don't know and I don't want to hear it. I'm afraid to have you say
anything to me."

"It was this: I was going to ask you what I would have done if you had
been married to Miss Hawtry when I got to you and we had begun to
produce our play together. It's different when men and women work
together! Standards have to be broader. How do I know that I would have
run away to--"

"Don't, don't!" pleaded Mr. Vandeford as she crept still nearer to him
and forcibly tried to open his arms for herself. "I'm punished. I've
taught you myself! When I leave you how'll I ever know if I'm going to
find you there when I come back?"

"Well, how'd you expect to find me--me--there if you don't take me
there?" Miss Adair pleaded as she tugged at his folded arms, with such
energy that her polished thumb-nail slightly marked his iron wrists.

"I'm not worthy, child, I'm not worthy," Mr. Vandeford answered with
grim words, and his arms still taut against his breast.

"You have to judge yourself with the same--same 'broad standards' I
judge you by, like you told me to use. Please open your arms!"

"I take those broad standards away from you."

"Jesus Christ gave them to me, only I didn't understand in Adairville."

"God, I wish you had never left Adairville."

"I know what there is for us to do."

"What?"

"I'll go back and marry you by Adairville narrow standards for better
and for worse, and then we'll have to keep 'em for ourselves when we
come back, because we did it knowing what we know, but let other people
be broad wherever they are without judging them. I'm going to drop
asleep right here on the sand if you don't open your arms."

"Oh, good Lord, what did You make women out of?" Mr. Vandeford said in
all reverence and bewilderment, as he took the "white flame" to his
breast and drew it past her lips until it burned away all the chaff in
his soul and established itself upon its altar.

After Mr. Vandeford had again delivered his author to the hopeful maid,
waiting up for another greenback, he met Mr. Rooney at the desk of the
hotel still on his way to "the hay."

"Closed up with Weiner to begin rehearsing 'The Rosie Posie Girl' on
Tuesday, after we open 'The Purple Slipper' in the New Carnival. Said
Hawtry woul