e
hair fall as autumn leaves on a windy day and make such hairs as stick
turn rapidly gray. Thus, there were many who thought Crossley was
through vanity shy of the truth by five or six years when he said forty.

In ordinary circumstances Mildred would never have got at Crossley.
This was the first business call of her life where she had come as an
unknown and unsupported suitor. Her reception would have been such at
the hands of Crossley's insolent and ill-mannered underlings that she
would have fled in shame and confusion. It is even well within the
possibilities that she would have given up all idea of a career, would
have sent for Baird, and so on. And not one of those who, timid and
inexperienced, have suffered rude rebuff at their first advance, would
have condemned her. But it so chanced--whether by good fortune or by
ill the event was to tell--that she did not have to face a single
underling. The hall door was open. She entered. It happened that
while she was coming up in the elevator a quarrel between a motorman
and a driver had heated into a fight, into a small riot. All the
underlings had rushed out on a balcony that commanded a superb view of
the battle. The connecting doors were open; Mildred advanced from room
to room, seeking someone who would take her card to Mr. Crossley. When
she at last faced a closed door she knocked.

"Come!" cried a pleasant voice.

And in she went, to face Crossley himself--Crossley, the "weak and
soft," caught behind his last entrenchment with no chance to escape.
Had Mildred looked the usual sort who come looking for jobs in musical
comedy, Mr. Crossley would not have risen--not because he was snobbish,
but because, being a sensitive, high-strung person, he instinctively
adopted the manner that would put the person before him at ease. He
glanced at Mildred, rose, and thrust back forthwith the slangy, offhand
personality that was perhaps the most natural--or was it merely the
most used?--of his many personalities. It was Crossley the man of the
world, the man of the artistic world, who delighted Mildred with a
courteous bow and offer of a chair, as he said:

"You wished to see me?"

"If you are Mr. Crossley," said Mildred.

"I should be tempted to say I was, if I wasn't," said he, and his
manner made it a mere pleasantry to put her at ease.

"There was no one in the outside room, so I walked on and on until your
door stopped me."

"You'll never know how lucky