ets exhibiting little chips of raw
material polished up neatly in one or two spots. That's why
there are so few men and women--and those few have had to make
themselves, or are made by accident. You're an accident, I
suppose. The women who amount to anything usually are. The
last actress I tried to do anything with might have become a
somebody if it hadn't been for one thing: She had a hankering
for respectability--a yearning to be a society person--to be
thought well of by society people. It did for her."

"I'll not sink on that rock," said Susan cheerfully.

"No secret longing for social position?"

"None. Even if I would, I couldn't."

"That's one heavy handicap out of the way. But I'll not let
myself begin to hope until I find out whether you've got
incurable and unteachable vanity. If you have--then, no hope.
If you haven't--there's a fighting chance."

"You forget my compact," Susan reminded him.

"Oh--the lover--Spenser."

Brent reflected, strolled to the big window, his hands deep in
his pockets. Susan took advantage of his back to give way to
her own feelings of utter amazement and incredulity. She
certainly was not dreaming. And the man gazing out at the
window was certainly flesh and blood--a great man, if voluble
and eccentric. Perhaps to act and speak as one pleased was
one of the signs of greatness, one of its perquisites. Was
he amusing himself with her? Was he perchance taken with
her physically and employing these extraordinary methods as
ways of approach? She had seen many peculiarities of
sex-approach in men--some grotesque, many terrible, all beyond
comprehension. Was this another such?

He wheeled suddenly, surprised her eyes upon him. He burst
out laughing, and she felt that he had read her thoughts.
However, he merely said:

"Have you anything to suggest--about Spenser?"

"I can't even tell him of your offer now. He's very ill--and
sensitive about you."

"About me? How ridiculous! I'm always coming across men I
don't know who are full of venom toward me. I suppose he
thinks I crowded him. No matter. You're sure you're not
fancying yourself in love with him?"

"No, I am not in love with him. He has changed--and so have I."

He smiled at her. "Especially in the last hour?" he suggested.

"I had changed before that. I had been changing right along.
But I didn't realize it fully until you talked with me--no,
until after you gave me your card this morning