one fixed thing in Thea's life. She went out from it to
uncertainties, and hastened to it from nebulous confusion. She was more
influenced by Bowers than she knew. Unconsciously she began to take on
something of his dry contempt, and to share his grudge without
understanding exactly what it was about. His cynicism seemed to her
honest, and the amiability of his pupils artificial. She admired his
drastic treatment of his dull pupils. The stupid deserved all they got,
and more. Bowers knew that she thought him a very clever man.

One afternoon when Bowers came in from lunch Thea handed him a card on
which he read the name, "Mr. Philip Frederick Ottenburg."

"He said he would be in again to-morrow and that he wanted some time.
Who is he? I like him better than the others."

Bowers nodded. "So do I. He's not a singer. He's a beer prince: son of
the big brewer in St. Louis. He's been in Germany with his mother. I
didn't know he was back."

"Does he take lessons?"

"Now and again. He sings rather well. He's at the head of the Chicago
branch of the Ottenburg business, but he can't stick to work and is
always running away. He has great ideas in beer, people tell me. He's
what they call an imaginative business man; goes over to Bayreuth and
seems to do nothing but give parties and spend money, and brings back
more good notions for the brewery than the fellows who sit tight dig out
in five years. I was born too long ago to be much taken in by these
chesty boys with flowered vests, but I like Fred, all the same."

"So do I," said Thea positively.

Bowers made a sound between a cough and a laugh. "Oh, he's a
lady-killer, all right! The girls in here are always making eyes at him.
You won't be the first." He threw some sheets of music on the piano.
"Better look that over; accompaniment's a little tricky. It's for that
new woman from Detroit. And Mrs. Priest will be in this afternoon."

Thea sighed. "'I Know that my Redeemer Liveth'?"

"The same. She starts on her concert tour next week, and we'll have a
rest. Until then, I suppose we'll have to be going over her programme."

The next day Thea hurried through her luncheon at a German bakery and
got back to the studio at ten minutes past one. She felt sure that the
young brewer would come early, before it was time for Bowers to arrive.
He had not said he would, but yesterday, when he opened the door to go,
he had glanced about the room and at her, and something in his eye ha