eriously, Freddy, I wish I knew more about what she's driving at. It
makes me jealous, when you are so in it and I'm not."

"In it?" Fred started up. "My God, haven't you seen her this blessed
night?--when she'd have kicked any other man down the elevator shaft, if
I know her. Leave me something; at least what I can pay my five bucks
for."

"Seems to me you get a good deal for your five bucks," said Archie
ruefully. "And that, after all, is what she cares about,--what people
get."

Fred lit a cigarette, took a puff or two, and then threw it away. He was
lounging back in his chair, and his face was pale and drawn hard by that
mood of intense concentration which lurks under the sunny shallows of
the vineyard. In his voice there was a longer perspective than usual, a
slight remoteness. "You see, Archie, it's all very simple, a natural
development. It's exactly what Mahler said back there in the beginning,
when she sang WOGLINDE. It's the idea, the basic idea, pulsing behind
every bar she sings. She simplifies a character down to the musical idea
it's built on, and makes everything conform to that. The people who
chatter about her being a great actress don't seem to get the notion of
where SHE gets the notion. It all goes back to her original endowment,
her tremendous musical talent. Instead of inventing a lot of business
and expedients to suggest character, she knows the thing at the root,
and lets the musical pattern take care of her. The score pours her into
all those lovely postures, makes the light and shadow go over her face,
lifts her and drops her. She lies on it, the way she used to lie on the
Rhine music. Talk about rhythm!"

The doctor frowned dubiously as a third bottle made its appearance above
the cloth. "Aren't you going in rather strong?"

Fred laughed. "No, I'm becoming too sober. You see this is breakfast
now; kind of wedding breakfast. I feel rather weddingish. I don't mind.
You know," he went on as the wine gurgled out, "I was thinking to-night
when they sprung the wedding music, how any fool can have that stuff
played over him when he walks up the aisle with some dough-faced little
hussy who's hooked him. But it isn't every fellow who can see--well,
what we saw tonight. There are compensations in life, Dr. Howard Archie,
though they come in disguise. Did you notice her when she came down the
stairs? Wonder where she gets that bright-and-morning star look? Carries
to the last row of the family circl