the circumstances, my kindness--she received me in this way!
However, my belief in her genius was too sincere to be altered by her
whimsies; so I persevered. "Let us go over it together," I said. "Shall
I read it to you, or will you read it to me?"

"I will not read it, but recite it."

"That will never do; you will recite it so well that we shall see only
the good points, and what we have to concern ourselves with now is the
bad ones."

"I will recite it," she repeated.

"Now, Miss Crief," I said bluntly, "for what purpose did you come to
me? Certainly not merely to recite: I am no stage-manager. In plain
English, was it not your idea that I might help you in obtaining a
publisher?"

"Yes, yes," she answered, looking at me apprehensively, all her old
manner returning.

I followed up my advantage, opened the little paper volume and began. I
first took the drama line by line, and spoke of the faults of
expression and structure; then I turned back and touched upon two or
three glaring impossibilities in the plot. "Your absorbed interest in
the motive of the whole no doubt made you forget these blemishes," I
said apologetically.

But, to my surprise, I found that she did not see the blemishes--that
she appreciated nothing I had said, comprehended nothing. Such
unaccountable obtuseness puzzled me. I began again, going over the
whole with even greater minuteness and care. I worked hard: the
perspiration stood in beads upon my forehead as I struggled with
her--what shall I call it--obstinacy? But it was not exactly obstinacy.
She simply could not see the faults of her own work, any more than a
blind man can see the smoke that dims a patch of blue sky. When I had
finished my task the second time she still remained as gently impassive
as before. I leaned back in my chair exhausted, and looked at her.

Even then she did not seem to comprehend (whether she agreed with it or
not) what I must be thinking. "It is such a heaven to me that you like
it!" she murmured dreamily, breaking the silence. Then, with more
animation, "And _now_ you will let me recite it?"

I was too weary to oppose her; she threw aside her shawl and bonnet,
and, standing in the centre of the room, began.

And she carried me along with her: all the strong passages were doubly
strong when spoken, and the faults, which seemed nothing to her, were
made by her earnestness to seem nothing to me, at least for that
moment. When it was ended she stood looki