r in an eager and unabashed embrace a
white-shouldered girl, whose arms went around his neck regardless of
"mother" assiduously looking the other way. In a car on the other side a
richly garbed gentleman dozed upon his cushions in triumphant inebriety.
Also, while she and Vandeford waited, she saw a guardian spinster shoo
a bevy of school-girls across in front of the cars, and turn in the
middle of the street to reprove a college boy for a laughing word tossed
to the combined bevy, while the blue arms on both sidewalks waved her
into haste so that they might unleash their restrained monster motors.
Everywhere protective men had women's arms fastened within their own and
were shoving through the throng, while other men and women jostled along
by themselves, or in companies of twos and threes, with laughing good
nature. Fakirs were crying many wares, and in and out squirmed newsboys
calling war extras in words that seemed to imply that New York was being
shelled from the sea, but did not make that exact statement.

"It's all the world, and I'm a part of it," Miss Adair again said, and
Mr. Vandeford was again surprised at himself that he was not surprised
to find tears glinting in the sea-gray eyes raised to his.

"_This_ is the Big Show," he said with a little answering thrill in his
own voice, as the enormity of the scene he had witnessed night after
night broke on him for the first time.

"They all live here and sleep here and eat here and work here
and--and--love here," she said softly, and smiled, for again the
limousine with the embracing lovers had paused by the side of
Valentine's car, and the embrace still held.

"No, the sleepers and eaters and workers of New York were in bed long
ago. Everybody you see here in this push has his or her vital wires
connected up at Squeedunck, Illinois, or Zanesville, Indiana or--"

"Or in Adairville, Kentucky," Miss Adair added with a laugh.

"No, you belong--anywhere. Creative people ought to have no--no home
wires," Mr. Vandeford answered, and there was a queer sadness in his
voice that he did not himself understand. "People with messages must
have masses to hand them to. That's why you came, and, I suppose, must
stay."

"Yes," answered Miss Adair, "I want to stay--if you'll let me."

"I can't do otherwise," Mr. Vandeford answered her. Then he turned and
looked her full in her serious eyes. "But if you stay you will have to
accept broad standards, or suffer."

"That Ma