wondered if every
young man who might be in love with a girl imposed such rigid restraint
on himself as Rex Carshaw when he was in her company. The unspoken
language of love was plain in every glance, in every tone, in the merest
touch of their hands. But he spoke no definite word, and their lips had
never met.

Miss Goodman, who took an interest in the pretty and amiable girl, spent
many an hour of chat with her. Every morning there arrived a present of
flowers from Carshaw; every afternoon Carshaw himself appeared as
regularly as the clock and drank of Miss Goodman's tea. They were weeks
of _Nirvana_ for Winifred, and, but for her fear of being found out and
her continued lack of occupation, they were the happiest she had ever
known. Meantime, however, she was living on "borrowed" money, and felt
herself in a false position.

"Well, any news?" was always Carshaw's first question as he placed his
hat over his stick on a chair. And Winifred might reply:

"Not much. I saw such-and-such a stage manager, and went from such an
agent to another, and had my voice tried, with the usual promises. I'm
afraid that even your patience will soon be worn out. I am sorry now
that I thought of singing instead of something else, for there are
plenty of girls who can sing much better than I."

"But don't be so eager about the matter, Winifred," he would say. "It is
an anxious little heart that eats itself out and will not learn repose.
Isn't it? And it chafes at being dependent on some one who is growing
weary of the duty. Doesn't it?"

"No, I didn't mean that," said Winifred with a rueful and tender smile.
"You are infinitely good, Rex." They had soon come to the use of
Christian names. Outwardly they were just good friends, while inwardly
they resembled two active volcanoes.

"Now I am 'infinitely good,' which is really more than human if you
think it out," he laughed. "See how you run to extremes with nerves and
things. No, you are not to care at all, Winnie. You have a more or less
good voice. You know more music than is good for you, and sooner or
later, since you insist on it, you will get what you want. Where is the
hurry?"

"You don't or won't understand," said Winifred. "I know what I want, and
must get some work without delay."

"Well, then, since it upsets you, you shall. I am not much of an
authority about professional matters myself, but I know a lady who
understands these things, and I'll speak to her."

"Who i