ed in Baltimore!"--a fact, but none of his
doing! "We'll play Philadelphia next; I'm fixin' it for you. All you
gotta do is go there and the yelling starts. Well, I guess. Some riot,
believe _me_!"

Wilding had no money in the beginning. After a while, Vanya had none,
or very little; but the impresario wore a new fur coat and spats. And
Broadway winked wearily and said: "He's got another!"--doubtless
deeming specification mere redundancy.

Yet, somehow, Wilding did manage to book Vanya in Philadelphia--at a
somewhat distant date, it is true--but it was something with which to
begin the promised "nation-wide tour" under the auspices of Dawson B.
Wilding.

Marya had money of her own, but trusted none of it in Wilding's
schemes. In fact, she had come to detest him thoroughly, and whenever
he was announced she would rise like some beautiful, disgusted feline,
which something has disturbed in her dim and favourite corner, and
move lithely away to another room. And it almost seemed as though her
little, warm, closely-chiselled ears actually flattened with bored
annoyance as the din of Wilding's vociferous greeting to Vanya arose
behind her.

* * * * *

One day toward Christmas time, she said to Vanya, in her level,
satin-smooth voice:

"You know, _mon ami_, I am tiring rapidly of this great fool who comes
shouting and tramping into our home. And when I am annoyed beyond my
nerve capacity, I am likely to leave."

Vanya said gently that he was sorry that he had entered into financial
relations with a man who annoyed her, but that it could scarcely be
helped now.

He was seated at his piano, not playing, but scoring. And he resumed
his composition after he had spoken, his grave, delicate head bent
over the ruled sheets, a gold pencil held between his long fingers.

Marya lounged near, watched him. Not for the first time, now, did his
sweet temper and gentleness vaguely irritate her--string her nerves a
little tighter until they began to vibrate with an indefinable longing
to say something to arouse this man--startle him--awaken him to a
physical tensity and strength.... Such as Shotwell's for example....

"Vanya?"

He looked up absently, the beauty of dreams still clouding his eyes.

And suddenly, to her own astonishment, her endurance came to its end.
She had never expected to say what she was now going to say to him.
She had never dreamed of confession--of enlightening