ght not see it as we had seen it at
rehearsal. But they did see it, and it was a stupendous thing to sit
there and watch the crowd, and know that Jimmie's genius was making its
heart beat fast and faster. When Ursula in her purple cloak and
pheasant's feather spoke her lines at the end of the third act, "_I
shall love you for a million years_," the house went wild. Men and women
who had never loved for a moment roared for this woman who had made them
think they could love until eternity. They wanted her back and they got
her. They wanted Jimmie and they got him. Ursula made a speech; Jimmie
made a speech. They came out for uncounted curtain-calls, hand-in-hand.
The play was a success!

The last act was, of course, an anti-climax. Before it was finished,
Elise said to me, in a, stifled voice, "I've got to get back to Jimmie."

It seemed significant that Jimmie had not come to her. Surely he had not
forgotten the part she had played. For fifteen years she had worked for
this.

We found ourselves presently behind the scenes. The curtain was down,
the audience was still shouting, everybody was excited, everybody was
shaking hands. The stage-people caught at Elise as she passed, and held
her to offer congratulations. I was not held and went on until I came to
where Jimmie and Ursula stood, a little separate from the rest. Although
I went near enough to touch them, they were so absorbed in each other
that they did not see me. Ursula was looking up at Jimmie and his head
was bent to her.

"Jimmie," she said, and her rich voice above the tumult was clear as a
bell, "do you know how great you are?"

"Yes," he said. "I--I feel a little drunk with it, Ursula."

"Oh," she said, and now her words stumbled, "I--I love you for it. Oh,
Jimmie, Jimmie, let's run away and love for a million years--"

All that he had wanted was in her words--the urge of youth, the beat of
the wind, the song of the sea. My heart stood still.

He drew back a little. He had wanted this. But he did not want it
now--with Ursula. I saw it and she saw it.

"What a joke it would be," he said, "but we have other things to do, my
dear."

"What things?"

The roar of the crowd came louder to their ears. "Harding, Harding!
Jimmie Harding!"

"Listen," he said, and the light in his eyes was not for her. "Listen,
Ursula, they're calling me."

She stood alone after he had left her. I am sure that even then she did
not quite believe it was the end. She did