and-So
singing," and the Lion and the Unicorn wondered how they could know
who it was when they could not see her.

The lodger's visitors came to see him at all hours. They seemed to
regard his rooms as a club, where they could always come for a bite to
eat or to write notes; and others treated it like a lawyer's office
and asked advice on all manner of strange subjects. Sometimes the
visitor wanted to know whether the American thought she ought to take
L10 a week and go on tour, or stay in town and try to live on L8; or
whether she should paint landscapes that would not sell, or
race-horses that would; or whether Reggie really loved her and whether
she really loved Reggie; or whether the new part in the piece at the
Court was better than the old part at Terry's, and wasn't she getting
too old to play "ingenues" anyway.

The lodger seemed to be a general adviser, and smoked and listened
with grave consideration, and the Unicorn thought his judgment was
most sympathetic and sensible.

Of all the beautiful ladies who came to call on the lodger the one the
Unicorn liked the best was the one who wanted to know whether she
loved Reggie and whether Reggie loved her. She discussed this so
interestingly while she consumed tea and thin slices of bread that the
Unicorn almost lost his balance in leaning forward to listen. Her name
was Marion Cavendish, and it was written over many photographs which
stood in silver frames in the lodger's rooms. She used to make the tea
herself, while the lodger sat and smoked; and she had a fascinating
way of doubling the thin slices of bread into long strips and nibbling
at them like a mouse at a piece of cheese. She had wonderful little
teeth and Cupid's-bow lips, and she had a fashion of lifting her veil
only high enough for one to see the two Cupid's-bow lips. When she did
that the American used to laugh, at nothing apparently, and say, "Oh,
I guess Reggie loves you well enough."

"But do I love Reggie?" she would ask, sadly, with her teacup held
poised in air.

[Illustration: Consumed tea and thin slices of bread.]

"I am sure I hope not," the lodger would reply, and she would put down
the veil quickly, as one would drop a curtain over a beautiful
picture, and rise with great dignity and say, "If you talk like that I
shall not come again."

She was sure that if she could only get some work to do her head would
be filled with more important matters than whether Reggie loved her or
no