r that. Give it to me,
quickly."

She leaned forward so that the firelight fell upon the pages. Little
strands of soft brown hair drooped over her face. In studying her, Philip
almost forgot his own anxiety. He had known so few women, yet he had
watched so many from afar off, endowed them with their natural qualities,
built up their lives and tastes for them, and found them all so sadly
wanting. To him, Elizabeth represented everything that was desirable in
her sex, from the flowing lines of her beautiful body to the sympathy
which seemed to be always shining out of her eyes. Notwithstanding her
strength, she was so exquisitely and entirely feminine, a creature of
silk and laces, free from any effort of provocativeness, yet subtly,
almost clamorously human. He forgot, in those few moments, that she had
become the arbitress of his material fate--that he was a humble author,
watching the effect of his first attempts upon a mistress in her
profession. He remembered only that she was the woman who was filling his
life, stealing into every corner of it, permeating him with love,
pointing him onwards towards a life indescribable, unrealisable....

She swung suddenly towards him. There was a certain amount of enthusiasm
in her face but even more marked was her relief.

"Oh! I am so glad," she cried. "You know, I have had qualms. When you
told me the story in your own words, picking your language so carefully,
and building it all up before me, well, you know what I said. I gave you
more than hope--I promised you success. And then, when I got away into
the hard, stagey world of Chicago, and my manager talked business to me,
and my last playwright preached of technique, I began to wonder whether,
after all, you could bring your ideas together like this, whether you
would have a sense of perspective--you know what I mean, don't you? And
you have it, and the play is going to be wonderful, and I shall produce
it. Why don't you look pleased, Mr. Author? You are going to be famous."

He smiled.

"I don't care about fame," he said. "And for the rest, I think I knew."

"Conceited!" she exclaimed.

"It wasn't that," he protested. "It was simply when I sat down in that
little room, high up over the roofs and buildings of a strange city, shut
myself in and told myself that it was for you--well, the thoughts came
too easily. They tumbled over one another. And when I looked away from my
work, I saw the people moving around me, and I k