as the unmarried. In short, fame was
still hers to conquer!

She set about conquering it at once--that was Sheila's way--and when,
in the middle of a busy morning, some one tapped imperiously on her
closed door, she went to answer the summons with an inky finger and
dream-laden eyes. But she opened the door to a vision that dispelled
dreams by its more charming substance--a young woman whose smart,
slender figure was clothed in a mode that had not yet reached
Shadyville, and whose alert and smiling face seemed as unrelated as her
garments to the sleepy little provincial town.

"Charlotte!"

"Yes," said the vision gaily, "yes--_Mrs. Theodore Kent_!"

And then the two girls were in each other's arms, laughing and
chattering, and weeping a little, too, after the manner of
girls--especially when there has been marriage and giving in marriage
since their last meeting.

They had not seen each other for more than three years, for although
Charlotte had been in America several times during that period, she had
merely joined her family in New York for brief reunions, and had then
hastened back to Paris where she was studying singing. They looked at
each other curiously after that first embrace, and, when they were
seated in Sheila's sunny sitting-room, they fell at once into
confidences covering those three separated years. It was Charlotte, of
course, who had food for conversation, but Sheila, as the bride, was
the heroine of the occasion, even to Charlotte's broader mind.
Marriage may not fulfill the ideals of high romance, but it can always
cast a halo.

"Well," said Charlotte at last, when she had heard the tale of Ted's
perfections and achievements, "well, I'll wait and see what you two
make of it before I give up my liberty."

"You wouldn't be giving up your liberty if you married the man you
loved," protested Sheila staunchly.

"Oh, I don't know about that! Suppose I married a man who resented my
music?"

"But he wouldn't--if he loved you!"

"Oh! Then Ted doesn't mind your writing?"

"Of course not!" Sheila assured her. "Why, I was writing when you
came!" And she held up the inky finger.

Charlotte surveyed the finger with evident respect: "That's right! I'm
glad you aren't going to be submerged by marriage. I was afraid you
might be. And really, Sheila, you have talent. The 'F---- Monthly'
would never have taken that story of yours if it hadn't been
exceptionally good. I know Mr. Bennett, th