t of this hole in the roof I
see London, the sky-line of London in a spring sky. There is a singular
sort of beauty in this sky, as if it had trailed its cerulean mantle
over fields of English bluebells. For another shilling I dine; for
another I lunch. I skip breakfast. I calculate I can stay here ten days,
then the shillings will be all gone, Tony. In these ten days, old man, I
shall sell my play. I am writing you this on the window-sill; without is
the mutter of soft thunder of London--the very word London thrills me to
the marrow. Such great things have come out of London--such prose--such
verse--such immortality!

"To-day I passed 'Jo,' Dickens's street-sweeper, in Dickens's 'Bleak
House.' I felt like saying to him, 'I am as poor as you are, Jo,
to-day,' but I remembered there were a few shillings between us.

"Well, old man, as I sit here I seem to have risen high above the
roof-tops and to look down on the struggle in this great vortex of life,
and here and there a man goes amongst them all, carrying a wreath of
laurel. Tony, my eyes are upon him! Call me a fool if you will, call me
mad; at any rate I have faith. I know I will succeed. Something tells me
I will stand before the curtain when they call my name. It is growing
late. I must go out and forage for food ... Tony. I kiss the hand of the
beautiful Mrs. Faversham."

Antony turned the pages between his fingers. The reading of the letter
had smoothed the creases from his brow. He sighed as he lifted his head
to say "Come in," for some one had knocked timidly at the door.

"Hello!" Fairfax said, and now that they were alone he called her "Aunt
Caroline."

Madame Potowski came forward and kissed him.

He drew a big chair into the window. He was always solicitous of her and
a little pitiful.

Madame Potowski's hair had been soft brown once; it was golden, frankly
so, now, and her fine lips were a little rouged. In her dress of
changeable silk, her cape of tulle, her hat with a bunch of roses, her
tiny gloved hands, she was a very elegant little lady. She rested her
hands on her parasol and had suggested his mother to Antony. Then, as
that resemblance passed, came the fleeting suggestion which he never
cared to hold--of Bella.

"I have come, my dear Tony, to see you. I wanted to see you alone."

Tony lit a cigar and sat by her side. The Comtesse Potowski had a little
diamond watch with a chain on her breast. Outside the clock struck five.

"I have onl