y."

"I might come up to that, later," said Maxwell, willing to take the
humorous view of the matter, if it would please the manager and smooth
the way for the consideration of his work; but, more obscurely, he was
impatient, and sorry to have found him in so philosophical a mood.

The manager was like the man of any other trade; he liked to talk of his
business, and this morning he talked of it a long time, and to an effect
that Maxwell must have found useful if he had not been so bent upon
getting to his manuscript that he had no mind for generalities. At last
the manager said, abruptly, "You want me to read your play?"

"Very much," Maxwell answered, and he promptly put the packet he had
brought into the manager's extended hand.

He not only took it, but he untied it, and even glanced at the first few
pages. "All right," he said, "I'll read it, and let you hear from me as
soon as I can. Your address--oh, it's on the wrapper, here. By-the-way,
why shouldn't you lunch with me? We'll go over to the Players' Club."

Maxwell flushed with eager joy; then he faltered.

"I should like to do it immensely. But I'm afraid--I'm afraid Mrs.
Maxwell will be waiting for me."

"Oh, all right; some other time," answered the manager; and then Maxwell
was vexed that he had offered any excuse, for he thought it would have
been very pleasant and perhaps useful for him to lunch at the Players'.
But the manager did not urge him. He only said, as he led the way to the
stage-door, "I didn't know there was a Mrs. Maxwell."

"She's happened since we met," said Maxwell, blushing with fond pride.
"We're such a small family that we like to get together at lunch," he
added.

"Oh, yes, I can understand that stage of it," said the manager.
"By-the-way, are you still connected with the _Abstract_? I noticed the
name on your card."

"Not quite in the old way. But," and with the words a purpose formed
itself in Maxwell's mind, "they've asked me to write their New York
letter."

"Well, drop in now and then. I may have something for you." The manager
shook hands with him cordially, and Maxwell opened the door and found
himself in the street.

He was so little conscious of the transit homeward that he seemed to
find himself the next moment with Louise in their little parlor. He
remembered afterwards that there was something strange in her manner
towards him at first, but, before he could feel presently cognizant of
it, this wore off in the