wears
long dresses."

Corinna's laugh was like music. "It takes more than that to make a
virtuous mind!" she exclaimed, but she was not thinking of Miss Spencer.

"Do you know," said Patty, leaning forward and speaking with the
earnestness of a child, "I doubt if Father ever looked at a well-dressed
woman until he met you."

Was it natural ingenuousness, or did the girl have a deeper motive? For
an instant Corinna wondered; then she returned merrily: "Certainly he
wouldn't look at me when Mrs. Stribling is near."

"Yes, he admires Mrs. Stribling very much," replied Patty gravely, "but
I don't. She isn't a bit real."

Corinna's gaze softened until it swept the girl's face like a caress. "I
hope you won't mind my calling you Patty," she responded irrelevantly.
"It is so hard to say Miss Vetch, for I can see that we are going to be
friends."

"Oh, if you will!" cried Patty breathlessly, and she added eagerly, "I
have never had a real friend, you know, and you are so beautiful. You
are more beautiful than anybody I ever saw on the stage."

"Or in the movies?" Corinna's voice was mirthful, but there was a deep
tenderness in her eyes. Was the girl as shallow as she appeared, or was
there, beneath her vivid enamel-like surface, some rich plastic
substance of character? Was she worth helping, worth the generous
friendship that Corinna could give, or was she merely a bit of human
driftwood that would burn out presently in the thin flame of some
transient passion? "I'll take the risk," thought Corinna. "A risk is
worth taking," for there was sporting blood in her veins. While she sat
there in silence, listening to the artless unfolding of the girl's
thoughts, she appeared to be searching for the hidden possibilities in
that crude young spirit. So often in the past the older woman had given
herself abundantly only to meet disappointment and ingratitude. Why
should it be different now? What was there in this unformed child that
appealed so strongly to her sympathy and tenderness? Not beauty surely,
for Patty was merely pretty. Charm she had unmistakably; but it was a
charm that men would feel rather than women; and of all the feminine
varieties that Corinna had known in the past, she disliked most heartily
"the man's woman." Was her impulse to help only the need of a fresh
interest, the craving for a new amusement? The heart of life she had
never reached. Something was missing--the unfading light, the starry
flower that sh