sort of sunshine."

"Yes--yes--go on," said Brent.

"And her sour, serious, solemn husband explains why wives are
untrue to their husbands. At least, it seems so to me."

He was walking up and down again. Every trace of indolence,
of relaxation, was gone from his gait and from his features.
His mind was evidently working like an engine at full speed.
Suddenly he halted. "You've given me a big idea," said he.
"I'll throw away the play I was working on. I'll do your play."

Susan laughed--pleased, yet a little afraid he was kinder than
she deserved. "What I said was only common sense--what my
experience has taught me."

"That's all that genius is, my dear," replied he. "As soon as
we're born, our eyes are operated on so that we shall never
see anything as it is. The geniuses are those who either
escape the operation or are reendowed with true sight by
experience." He nodded approvingly at her. "You're going to
be a person--or, rather, you're going to show you're a person.
But that comes later. You thought of _Lola_ as your part?"

"I tried to. But I don't know anything about acting except
what I've seen and the talk I've heard."

"As I said the other day, that means you've little to learn.
Now--as to _Lola's_ entrance."

"Oh, I thought of a lot of things to do--to show that she, too,
loved _Turiddu_ and that she had as much right to love--and to
be loved--as _Santuzza_ had. _Santuzza_ had had her chance, and
had failed."

Brent was highly amused. "You seem to forget that _Lola_ was a
married woman--and that if _Santuzza_ didn't get a husband she'd
be the mother of a fatherless child."

Never had he seen in her face such a charm of sweet melancholy
as at that moment. "I suppose the way I was born and the life
I've led make me think less of those things than most people
do," replied she. "I was talking about natural hearts--what
people think inside--the way they act when they have courage."

"When they have courage," Brent repeated reflectively. "But
who has courage?"

"A great many people are compelled to have it," said she.

"I never had it until I got enough money to be independent."

"I never had it," said Susan, "until I had no money."

He leaned against the big table, folded his arms on his chest,
looked at her with eyes that made her feel absolutely at ease
with him. Said he:

"You have known what it was to have no money--none?"

Susan nodded. "And no friends--no place to sl