gs I don't want. And at the last moment," he added gloomily, "you
may tell me that there isn't a lemon in the place." He looked about with
the hopelessness of a great artist facing the failure of his
chef-d'oeuvre. "I forgot the lemons."

She went across the room to a small closet. Even in the strain of the
moment he observed the extraordinary grace and swiftness of her
movements. She was very slender, very lithe, and she moved like a flash
of light.

"Fancy my being caught without a lemon!" she scoffed, as she returned
with the fruit. "Your brain-work stops abruptly sometimes, doesn't it?"

She handed him the lemons with a little gesture expressing amusement,
triumph, and a dash of coquetry. Laurie's eyes glowed as he looked at
her. For the second time, in her actual presence, a sharp thrill shot
through him. Oh, if she were always like this!--gay, happy, without that
incredible, unbelievable background of tragedy and mystery! He turned
his mind resolutely from the intruding thought. This hour at least was
hers and his. It should be prolonged to the last moment.

What he longed for was to hear her talk, but that way, he knew, lay
disaster to the little supper in swift-returning memory. If she began to
talk, the forbidden topic, now dormant, would uncoil its hideous length
and hiss. He must hold her attention to other things.

He plunged at random into chatter. For the first time he told her about
Bangs, his chum, and about Epstein, their manager; about their plays and
their experiences in rehearsals and on the road. Being very young and
slightly spoiled, he experienced some chagrin in the discovery that she
seemed alike ignorant of the men and the plays. Worse yet, she seemed
not even aware that she should have known who Bangs and Epstein were.
She did not recall having heard the title of "The Black Pearl." She was
not only unaware that "The Man Above" had broken all box-office records;
she seemed unconscious that it had ever been written. Observing his
artless surprise, she gravely explained. "I have been interested in
other things," she reminded him.

The forbidden topic was stirring, stretching. To quiet it, Laurie leaped
into the comedy scenes of "The Man Above." They delighted her. Her soft,
delicious laughter moved him to give her bits from "The Black Pearl,"
and, following these, the big scenes from the latter play. This last
effort followed the supper; and Laurie, now in his highest spirits,
added to his