s Andrew Bang's boyhood verses. I--all my
sisters--read, write, speak, even think, in ten languages. I long for
something to read which is vital, familiar, friendly--something of my
own time, my own day. I wish to know what young people do and dare; what
they really think, what they believe, strive for, desire!"

"Well--well, I don't think people really do and say and think the things
that you read in interesting modern novels," he said doubtfully. "Fact
is, only the tiresome novels seem to tell a portion of the truth; but
they end by overdoing it and leave you yawning with a nasty taste in
your mouth. I--I think you'd better let your father pick out your
novels."

"I don't want to," she said rebelliously. "I want _you_ to."

He looked at the beautiful, rebellious face and took a closer hold on
the hidden hand.

"I wish you--I wish I could choose--everything for you," he said
unsteadily.

"I wish so, too. You are exactly the sort of man I like."

"Do--do you mean it?"

"Why, yes," she replied, opening her splendid eyes. "Don't I show the
pleasure I take in being with you?"

"But--would you tire of me if--if we always--forever----"

"Were friends? No."

"Mo-m-m-more than friends?" Then he choked.

The speculation in her wide eyes deepened. "What do you mean?" she asked
curiously.

But again the lone note of the thumped piano signaled silence. In the
sudden hush the poet opened his lids with a sticky smile and folded his
hands over his abdomen, plump thumbs joined.

"_What_ do you mean?" repeated Lissa hurriedly, tightening her slender
fingers around Harrow's.

"I mean--I mean----"

He turned in silence and their eyes met. A moment later her fingers
relaxed limply in his; their hands were still in contact--but scarcely
so; and so remained while the _Attitudes_ of Barnard Haw held the stage.

IX

[Illustration]

There was a young wife behind the footlights explaining to a young man
who was not her husband that her marriage vows need not be too seriously
considered if he, the young man, found them too inconvenient. Which
scared the young man, who was plainly a purveyor of heated air and a
short sport. And, although she explained very clearly that if he needed
her in his business he had better say so quick, the author's invention
gave out just there and he called in the young wife's husband to help
him out.

And all the while the battery of round blue eyes gazed on unwinking; the
poet's d