to Richard, who came to the box to congratulate them.

"Looks like a go," he said, cordially.

Even Jarvis unbent to him, and insisted upon his sitting with them for
the third act. Bambi added a smiling second. She had explained to
Richard, in advance, why she did not invite him to share the box.

"I am having a most unexpectedly good time," the Professor admitted to
them all.

Jarvis's state of mind was painful as the last act began. In the next
thirty minutes he was to meet the woman he thought he loved. Since his
confession to Bambi the night before, a doubt had raised its head to
stare at him as to the real depth of his feeling for his unknown
inamorata. Had he really been moved by love, or was it only a need of
sympathy for his hurt pride that had driven him to her? Bambi's strange
behaviour, her admission that she did not love Strong, most of all those
moments when she lay in his arms--they had upset all his convictions and
emotions. He paid no attention to the act at all, torn as he was as to
what the night would bring him.

He was aroused by storms of applause. The curtain went up again, and
again; the company bowed solo and in a group. Then calls of "Author!
Author!" were heard all over the house. Bambi clutched Jarvis's sleeve
and drew him back of the box.

"Go on! You've got to go out and bow. You do it alone, Jarvis----"

In answer he took her arm and propelled her in front of him, back on the
stage.

"Here they are! give them full stage!" said the stage manager, ringing
up the curtain. "Now, go ahead, right out there!"

He opened a door in the set and Jarvis and Bambi went on. There was a
hush for a second, then a big round of applause. Bambi laughed and waved
her hand. There was a hush of expectancy.

"Now, Jarvis, go on!" she prompted him.

Jarvis, cold as death, began to speak. He thanked everybody in the
prescribed way, beginning with the audience, ending with the company. He
said he was happy that they liked the play, but that he was making the
speech under false pretenses. All the credit for the success must go to
two women, his wife and collaborator----Here he turned to include Bambi,
but to his astonishment she was gone. The audience laughed at his
discomfiture, but he turned it off wittily. The other woman, the one to
whom most of the credit was due, was the author of the book. She had so
far hidden behind an anonymity, but he believed she was in the house
to-night, and it was to her t