inner he had
ordered, they talked of acting--of the different roles of
"Cavalleria" as types of fundamental instincts and actions--of
how best to express those meanings--how to fill out the
skeletons of the dramatist into personalities actual and
vivid. Susan forgot where she was, forgot to be reserved with
him. In her and Rod's happiest days she had never been free
from the constraint of his and her own sense of his great
superiority. With Brent, such trifles of the petty personal
disappeared. And she talked more naturally than she had since
a girl at her uncle's at Sutherland. She was amazed by the
fountain that had suddenly gushed forth in her mind at the
conjuring of Brent's sympathy. She did not recognize herself
in this person so open to ideas, so eager to learn, so clear
in the expression of her thoughts. Not since the Burlingham
days had she spent so long a time with a man in absolute
unconsciousness of sex.

They were interrupted by the intrusion of a fashionable young
man with the expression of assurance which comes from the
possession of wealth and the knowledge that money will buy
practically everything and everybody. Brent received him so
coldly that, after a smooth sentence or two, he took himself
off stammering and in confusion. "I suppose," said Brent when
he was gone, "that young ass hoped I would introduce him to
you and invite him to sit. But you'll be tempted often enough
in the next few years by rich men without my helping to put
temptation in your way,"

"I've never been troubled thus far," laughed Susan.

"But you will, now. You have developed to the point where
everyone will soon be seeing what it took expert eyes to see
heretofore."

"If I am tempted," said Susan, "do you think I'll be able
to resist?"

"I don't know," confessed Brent. "You have a strong sense of
honesty, and that'll keep you at work with me for a while.
Then----

"If you have it in you to be great, you'll go on. If you're
merely the ordinary woman, a little more intelligent, you'll
probably--sell out. All the advice I have to offer is, don't
sell cheap. As you're not hampered by respectability or by
inexperience, you needn't." He reflected a moment, then
added, "And if you ever do decide that you don't care to go on
with a career, tell me frankly. I may be able to help you in
the other direction."

"Thank you," said Susan, her strange eyes fixed upon him.

"Why do you put so much gratitude in y