ld in a grasp which, firm though it was, seemed to
owe its vigour rather to the long, powerful fingers than to any real
cordiality. Mr. Sylvanus Power was studying him from behind his bushy
eyebrows.

"So you're Merton Ware," he observed. "I haven't seen your play yet--hope
to to-night. An Englishman, eh?"

"Yes, I am English," Philip assented coolly. "You come from the West,
don't you?"

There was a moment's silence. Elizabeth laughed softly.

"Oh, there's no mistake about Mr. Power!" she declared. "He brings the
breezy West with him, to Wall Street or Broadway, Paris or London. You
can't shake it off or blow it away."

"And I don't know as I am particularly anxious to, either," Mr. Power
pronounced. "Are you going to your rooms here, Betty? If so, I'll come
along. I guess Mr. Ware will excuse you."

Philip was instantly conscious of the antagonism in the other's manner.
As yet, however, he felt little more than amusement. He glanced towards
Elizabeth, and the look in her face startled him. The colour had once
more left her cheeks and her eyes were full of appeal.

"If you wouldn't mind?" she begged. "Mr. Power is a very old friend and
we haven't met for so long."

"You needn't expect to see anything more of Miss Dalstan to-night, either
of you," the newcomer declared, drawing her hand through his arm, "except
on the stage, that is. I am going to take her out and give her a little
dinner directly. Au revoir, Fink! I'll see you to-night here. Good-day to
you, Mr. Ware."

Philip stood for a moment motionless. The voice of Mr. Sylvanus Power was
no small thing, and he was conscious that several of the officials of the
place, and the man in the box office, had heard every word that had
passed. He felt, somehow, curiously ignored. He watched the huge figure
of the Westerner, with Elizabeth by his side, disappear down the
corridor. Mr. Fink, who had also been looking after them, turned towards
him.

"Say, that's some man, Sylvanus Power!" he exclaimed admiringly. "He is
one of our multimillionaires, Mr. Ware. What do you think of him?"

"So far as one can judge from a few seconds' conversation," Philip
remarked, "he seems to possess all the qualities essential to the
production of a multimillionaire in this country."

Mr. Fink grinned.

"Sounds a trifle sarcastic, but I guess he's a new type to you," he
observed tolerantly.

"Absolutely," Philip acknowledged, as he turned and made his way slowly
out of the