ctor to me, madam,
that I hesitate to ask another favour of you."

All familiarity had fled from him. He seemed to be no longer on an
equality with her. He was diffident, he was respectful. If this girl was
a friend of Mr. Gay the distinguished poet and dramatist whose latest
work, "The Fables," was being talked about at Button's, at Wills', at
every coffee-house where the wits gathered, she must be somebody in the
world of fashion and letters. Perhaps she was an actress. She had the
assured manner of one, he thought.

"What is it you want? If it's anything in my power I'd like to help
you," said Lavinia with an air of gracious condescension. The young
man's sudden deference amused her highly. It also pleased her.

"Thank you," he exclaimed eagerly. "I would ask you if you have
sufficient acquaintance to show him my play? I'm sure he would refuse
you nothing. Nobody could."

"Oh, this is very sad," said Lavinia shaking her head. "I'm afraid, Mr.
Vane, you're trying to bribe me with flattery. I warn you it will be of
no avail. All the same I'll take your play to Mr. Gay if you care to
trust it to me."

"Trust, madam, I'd trust you with anything."

"You shouldn't be so ready to believe in people you know nothing of.
But--where's this play of yours? May I look at it?"

"It would be the greatest honour you could confer upon me. I would
dearly love to have your opinion," he cried, his face flushing.

"My opinion isn't worth a button, but all the same the play would
interest me I'm sure."

He went to a bureau and took from one of the drawers a manuscript neatly
stitched together.

"I've copied it out fairly and I don't think you'll have much difficulty
in deciphering the writing."

Lavinia took the manuscript and glanced at the inscription on the first
page. It ran "Love's Blindness: A Tragedy in Five Acts. By Lancelot
Vane."

"Oh, it's a tragedy," she exclaimed.

He read the look of dismay that crept over her face and his heart fell.

"Yes. But the real tragic part doesn't come until the very last part of
the fifth act."

"And what happens then?"

"The lovers both die. They do not find out how much they love each other
until it is too late for them to be united, so Stephen kills Amanda and
then kills himself."

"How terribly sad. But wasn't there any other way? Why couldn't you have
made them happy?"

"Then it wouldn't have been a tragedy."

"Perhaps not. But what prevented them marrying?"

"Amand