go away. And you know so
many people--in so many places. There's your sister in Omaha. I remember
how much trouble you said she had finding a nursery governess. I'd be
pretty good at that I think. I could teach French and--I'd be nice to
children."

For a moment she wildly thought she had won him. She saw the tears come
into his eyes.

"Anything I have in the world, my dear, or anything I can command is
yours. On any terms you like."

But there he disposed of the tears and got himself together, as if he'd
remembered some warning. She could imagine Rush over the telephone, "Of
course, she's terribly run down with that damned war work of hers; not
quite her real self, you know."

She saw him summon a resolute smile and heard the familiar note of
encouragement in his voice. "We'll think about it," he told her. "After
all, things aren't, probably, as black as they look. And sometimes when
they look darkest it's only the sign that they're about to change their
faces altogether. Anyhow, we've stared at them long enough to-night,
haven't we? And all I meant was to take you out for a jolly evening!
Don't you think we might save it, even yet? Is there anything at the
theatres you'd like to see?"

"Some musical show?" she asked. "Yes, I'd like that very much.
Thank you."

CHAPTER XIX

THE DRAMATIST

Mary returned to Ravinia--went on duty, as she put it to Wallace--the
following afternoon rather taut-drawn in her determination to have things
out with Paula at once. But the mere attitude and atmosphere of the
place, as before, let her down a little.

It was restful to have her days filled up with trivial necessary duties;
an hour's errand running in the small car; a pair of soiled satin
slippers to clean with naptha; a stack of notes to answer from such
unknown and infatuate admirers as managed to escape the classification
feebleminded and were entitled therefore to have the fact recognized
(this at a little desk in the corner while Novelli at the piano and Paula
ranging about the room, ran over her part in half-voice in the opera she
had rehearsed yesterday with the orchestra and was to sing to-night), a
run to the park for a visit to Paula's dressing-room in the pavilion in
order to make sure, in conference with her dresser, that all was in order
for to-night; a return to the cottage in time to heat Paula's milk (their
maid of all work couldn't be trusted not to boil it); then at seven,
driving Paula to the