to New York,
and were ready to renew their engagements. That no time might be lost,
Grayson asked Maxwell to come the next morning and read the piece to
such of them as he could get together in the Argosy greenroom, and give
them his sense of it.

Louise handed him back the letter, and said, with dangerous calm: "You
might save still more time by going down to Mrs. Harley's apartment and
reading it to her at once." Maxwell was miserably silent, and she
pursued: "May I ask whether you knew they were going to try to get her?"

"No," said Maxwell.

"Was there anything said about her?"

"Yes, there was, last night. But both Grayson and Godolphin regarded it
as impossible to get her."

"Why didn't you tell me that they would like to get her?"

"You knew it, already. And I thought, as they both had given up the hope
of getting her, I wouldn't mention the subject. It's always been a very
disagreeable one."

"Yes." Louise sat quiet, and then she said: "What a long misery your
play has been to me!"

"You haven't helped make it any great joy to me," said Maxwell,
bitterly.

She began to weep, silently, and he stood looking down at her in utter
wretchedness. "Well," he said at last, "what shall I do about it?"

Louise wiped her tears, and cleared up cold, as we say of the weather.
She rose, as if to leave the room, and said, haughtily: "You shall do as
you think best for yourself. You must let them have the play, and let
them choose whom they think best for the part. But you can't expect me
to come to see it."

"Then that unsays all the rest. If you don't come to see it, I sha'n't,
and I shall not let them have the piece. That is all. Louise," he
entreated, after these first desperate words, "_can't_ we grapple with
this infernal nightmare, so as to get it into the light, somehow, and
see what it really is? How can it matter to you who plays the part? Why
do you care whether Miss Pettrell or Mrs. Harley does it?"

"Why do you ask such a thing as that?" she returned, in the same hard
frost. "You know where the idea of the character came from, and why it
was sacred to me. Or perhaps you forget!"

"No, I don't forget. But try--can't you try?--to specify just why you
object to Mrs. Harley?"

"You have your theory. You said I was jealous of her."

"I didn't mean it. I never believed that."

"Then I can't explain. If you don't understand, after all that's been
said, what is the use of talking? I'm tired of it!"

S