"That is just what I was thinking, Brice! It would be too bad to lose
that. The love-business as you've remodeled it is all very well. But it
_is_ light; it's comedy; and Haxard is such splendid tragedy. I want
you to make your first impression in that. You can do comedy afterwards;
but if you did comedy first, the public would never think your tragedy
was serious."

"Yes, there's a law in that. A clown mustn't prophesy. If a prophet
chooses to joke, now and then, all well and good. I couldn't begin now
and expand that love-business into a whole play. It must remain an
episode, and Godolphin must take it or leave it. Of course he'll want
Atland emaciated to fatten Haxard, as he calls it. But Atland doesn't
amount to much, as it is, and I don't believe I could make him; it's
essentially a passive part; Salome must make the chief effect in that
business, and I think I'll have her a little more serious, too. It'll be
more in keeping with the rest."

"I don't see why she shouldn't be serious. There's nothing ignoble in
what she does."

"No. It can be very impassioned."

Louise thought of the smouldering eyes of that woman, and she wondered
if they were what suggested something very impassioned to Maxwell; but
with all the frankness between them, she did not ask him.

On their way to the cottage they saw one of the hotel bell-boys coming
out. "Just left a telegram in there for you," he called, as he came
towards them.

Louise began, "Oh, dear, I hope there's nothing the matter with papa! Or
your mother."

She ran forward, and Maxwell followed at his usual pace, so that she had
time to go inside and come out with the despatch before he mounted the
veranda steps.

"You open it!" she entreated, piteously, holding it towards him.

He pulled it impatiently open, and glanced at the signature. "It's from
Godolphin;" and he read, "Don't destroy old play. Keep new love-business
for episode. Will come over this afternoon." Maxwell smiled. "More mind
transference."

Louise laughed in hysterical relief. "Now you can make him do just what
you want."

VI.

Maxwell, now, at least, knew that he had got his play going in the right
direction again. He felt a fresh pleasure in returning to the old lines
after his excursion in the region of comedy, and he worked upon them
with fresh energy. He rehabilitated the love-business as he and his wife
had newly imagined it, and, to disguise the originals the more
effectively,