er as it
did in her favor. It was evident from the way the announcements of her
prospective appearance at Ravinia had been elaborated in the society
columns of the newspapers that it would arouse a lot of curiosity. It
would be one of the topics that everybody, in the social-register sense
of the word, would be talking about and in order to talk authoritatively
everybody--four or five hundred people this is to say--would have to
attend at least one of her performances.

Nothing less than a downright unmistakable triumph would convince them.
She was a professional in the grain and yet in this adventure she would
be under the curse of an amateur's status, a thing she hated as all
professionals do.

It was evidently from an instinct to cut herself off as completely as
possible from these social connections of hers that she rented for the
summer, a furnished house in the village of Ravinia, within a mile or so
of the park. John was rather disconcerted over this when she told him
about it. She greeted him with it as an accomplished fact upon his
return to Chicago with Mary. She made a genuine effort to explain the
necessity, but explanations were not in Paula's line and she didn't
altogether succeed.

She made it clear enough, though, that she didn't want to be fussed by
the attentions of friends or family, of her husband least of all. She
didn't want to be congratulated nor encouraged. She didn't want to be
asked to little suppers or luncheons nor to be made the objective of
personally conducted tourist parties back stage. She didn't want to be
called to the telephone, ever, except on matters of professional business
by her Ravinia colleagues.

All of this, John pointed out, could be accomplished at home. He,
himself, could deal with the telephoners and the tourists. This was about
all apparently that he was going to be good for this summer; but a
watchdog's duties he could perform in a highly efficient manner.

"But a home and a husband are the very first things I've got to forget
about," cried Paula. "Oh, can't you see!"

Darkly and imperfectly, he did. The atmosphere of the home in which one
has been guarded and pampered as a priceless possession was--must
be--enervating, and to one who was screwing up her powers to their
highest pitch for a great effort like this, it would be
poisonous--malarial! He would have been clearer about it, though, but for
the misgiving that, consciously or not, Paula was punishing him f