njust to
qualify as roundabout the manner in which Miss Rooth conveyed that it
was open to him not only to pay for her lessons, but to meet the expense
of her nightly attendance with her mother at instructive exhibitions of
theatrical art. It was a large order, sending the pair to all the plays;
but what Peter now found himself thinking of was not so much its
largeness as the possible interest of going with them sometimes and
pointing the moral--the technical one--of showing her the things he
liked, the things he disapproved. She repeated her declaration that she
recognised the fallacy of her mother's view of heroines impossibly
virtuous and of the importance of her looking out for such tremendously
proper people. "One must let her talk, but of course it creates a
prejudice," she said with her eyes on Mr. and Mrs. Lovick, who had got
up, terminating their communion with Mrs. Rooth. "It's a great muddle, I
know, but she can't bear anything coarse or nasty--and quite right too.
I shouldn't either if I didn't have to. But I don't care a sou where I
go if I can get to act, or who they are if they'll help me. I want to
act--that's what I want to do; I don't want to meddle in people's
affairs. I can look out for myself--I'm all right!" the girl exclaimed
roundly, frankly, with a ring of honesty which made her crude and pure.
"As for doing the bad ones I'm not afraid of that."

"The bad ones?"

"The bad women in the plays--like Madame Carre. I'll do any vile
creature."

"I think you'll do best what you are"--and Sherringham laughed for the
interest of it. "You're a strange girl."

"_Je crois bien_! Doesn't one have to be, to want to go and exhibit
one's self to a loathsome crowd, on a platform, with trumpets and a big
drum, for money--to parade one's body and one's soul?"

He looked at her a moment: her face changed constantly; now it had a
fine flush and a noble delicacy. "Give it up. You're too good for it,"
he found himself pleading. "I doubt if you've an idea of what girls have
to go through."

"Never, never--never till I'm pelted!" she cried.

"Then stay on here a bit. I'll take you to the theatres."

"Oh you dear!" Miriam delightedly exclaimed. Mr. and Mrs. Lovick,
accompanied by Mrs. Rooth, now crossed the room to them, and the girl
went on in the same tone: "Mamma dear, he's the best friend we've ever
had--he's a great deal nicer than I thought."

"So are you, mademoiselle," said Peter Sherringham.

"Oh, I