ood Rose Euclid,
gorgeous in green and silver, bowing and bowing and bowing--bowing
before the storm of approval and acclamation that swept from the
auditorium across the footlights. With a sound like that of tearing
silk, or of a gigantic contralto mosquito, the curtain swished down,
and swished up, and swished down again. Bouquets flew on to the stage
from the auditorium (a custom newly imported from the United States
by Miss Euclid, and encouraged by her, though contrary to the lofty
canons of London taste). The actress already held one huge trophy,
shaped as a crown, to her breast. She hesitated, and then ran to the
wings, and caught Edward Henry by the wrist impulsively, madly. They
shook hands in an ecstasy.

It was as though they recognized in one another a fundamental and
glorious worth; it was as though no words could ever express the depth
of appreciation, affection and admiration which each intensely
felt for the other; it was as though this moment were the final
consecration of twin-lives whose long, loyal comradeship had never
been clouded by the faintest breath of mutual suspicion. Rose Euclid
was still the unparalleled star, the image of grace and beauty and
dominance upon the stage. And yet quite clearly Edward Henry saw close
to his the wrinkled, damaged, daubed face and thin neck of an old
woman; and it made no difference.

"Rose!" cried a strained voice, and Rose Euclid wrenched herself from
him and tumbled with half a sob into the clasping arms of Elsie April.

"You've saved the intellectual theatah for London, my boy! That's what
you've done!" Marrier now was gripping his hand. And Edward Henry was
convinced that he had.

The strident vigour of the applause showed no diminution. And through
the thick, heavy rain of it could be heard the monotonous, insistent
detonations of one syllable:

"'Thor! 'Thor! 'Thor! 'Thor! 'Thor!"

And then another syllable was added:

"Speech! Speech! Speech! Speech!"

Mechanically Edward Henry lit a cigarette. He had no consciousness of
doing so.

"Where is Trent?" people were asking.

Carlo Trent appeared up a staircase at the back of the stage.

"You've got to go on," said Marrier. "Now, pull yourself together. The
Great Beast is calling for you. Say a few wahds."

Carlo Trent in his turn seized the hand of Edward Henry, and it
was for all the world as though he were seizing the hand of an
intellectual and poetic equal, and wrung it.

"Come now!" Mr.