."

"You saw a chance--a hope--eh?"

She nodded.

"And at once became all nerves and courage. . . . As to
Spenser--I'll have some play carpenter sent to collaborate
with him and set him up in the play business. You know it's a
business as well as an art. And the chromos sell better than
the oil paintings--except the finest ones. It's my chromos
that have earned me the means and the leisure to try oils."

"He'd never consent. He's very proud."

"Vain, you mean. Pride will consent to anything as a means to an
end. It's vanity that's squeamish and haughty. He needn't know."

"But I couldn't discuss any change with him until he's much better."

"I'll send the play carpenter to him--get Fitzalan to send one
of his carpenters." Brent smiled. "You don't think _he_'ll
hang back because of the compact, do you?"

Susan flushed painfully. "No," she admitted in a low voice.

Brent was still smiling at her, and the smile was cynical.
But his tone soothed where his words would have wounded, as he
went on: "A man of his sort--an average,
'there-are-two-kinds-of-women, good-and-bad' sort of man--has
but one use for a woman of your sort."

"I know that," said Susan.

"Do you mind it?"

"Not much. I'd not mind it at all if I felt that I was somebody."

Brent put his hand on her shoulder. "You'll do, Miss Lenox,"
he said with quiet heartiness. "You may not be so big a
somebody as you and I would like. But you'll count as one,
all right."

She looked at him with intense appeal in her eyes. "Why?" she
said earnestly. "_Why_ do you do this?"

He smiled gravely down at her--as gravely as Brent could
smile--with the quizzical suggestion never absent from his
handsome face, so full of life and intelligence. "I've been
observing your uneasiness," said he. "Now listen. It would
be impossible for you to judge me, to understand me. You are
young and as yet small. I am forty, and have lived
twenty-five of my forty years intensely. So, don't fall into
the error of shallow people and size me up by your own foolish
little standards. Do you see what I mean?"

Susan's candid face revealed her guilt. "Yes," said she,
rather humbly.

"I see you do understand," said he. "And that's a good sign.
Most people, hearing what I said, would have disregarded it as
merely my vanity, would have gone on with their silly judging,
would have set me down as a conceited ass who by some accident
had got a reputation. Bu