e the woman as pretty and why the pictures are published."

"Really? Yes, I suppose so." Baird looked chagrined. "Anyhow, here I
am, all for one woman. And why? I can't explain it to myself. She's
pretty, lovely, entrancing sometimes. She has charm, grace, sweetness.
She dresses well and carries herself with a kind of sweet haughtiness.
She looks as if she knew a lot--and nothing bad. Do you know, I can't
imagine her having been married to that beast! I've tried to imagine
it. I simply can't."

"I shouldn't try if I were you," said Mrs. Brindley.

"But I was talking about why I love her. Does this bore you?"

"A little," laughed Cyrilla. "I'd rather hear some man talking about
MY charms. But go on. You are amusing, in a way."

"I'll wager I am. You never thought I'd be caught? I believed I was
immune--vaccinated against it. I thought I knew all the tricks and
turns of the sex. Yet here I am!"

"What do you think caught you?"

"That's the mystery. It's simply that I can't do without her.
Everything she looks and says and does interests me more than anything
else in the world. And when I'm not with her I'm wishing I were and
wondering how she's looking or what she's saying or doing. You don't
think she'll refuse me?" This last with real anxiety.

"I haven't an idea," replied Mrs. Brindley. "She's--peculiar. In some
moods she would. In others, she couldn't. And I've never been able to
settle to my satisfaction which kind of mood was the real Mary Stevens."

"She IS queer, isn't she?" said Stanley thoughtfully. "But I've told
her she'd be free to go on with the career. Fact is, I want her to do
it."

Mrs. Brindley's eyes twinkled. "You think it would justify you to your
set in marrying her, if she made a great hit?"

Stanley blushed ingenuously. "I'll not deny that has something to do
with it," he admitted. "And why not?"

"Why not, indeed?" said she. "But, after she had made the hit, you'd
want her to quit the stage and take her place in society. Isn't that
so?"

"You ARE a keen one," exclaimed he admiringly. "But I didn't say that
to her. And you won't, will you?"

"It's hardly necessary to ask that," said Mrs. Brindley. "Now,
suppose-- You don't mind my talking about this?"

"What I want," replied he. "I can't talk or think anything but her."

"Now, suppose she shouldn't make a hit. Suppose she should
fail--should not develop reliable voice enough?"

Stanley looked fri