s and
entrances. It would be done more if we could teach chorus people to act
human. Well, you can do that better than I; that's the plain truth. And
then I think after you'd got my idea of a dance number you could
probably rehearse it yourself, take some of that routine off my hands.
Under this new contract of mine, that I expect to sign in a day or two,
I'll simply have to have somebody. And then, of course, there's the
costuming. That's a great game, and I've a notion, though of course I
haven't a great deal to go by, that you could swing it. I think you've a
talent for it.

"There you are! The job will be paid from the first a great deal better
than what you've got here. And the costuming end of it, if you succeed,
would run to real money. Well, how about it?"

"But," said Rose a little breathlessly--"but don't I have to stay here
with _The Girl Up-stairs_? I couldn't just leave, could I?"

"Oh, I shan't be ready for you just yet anyway," he said. "I'll write
when I am and by that time you'll be perfectly free to give them your
two weeks' notice. By the way, haven't you some other address than care
of the theater--a permanent address somewhere?"

"Care of Miss Portia Stanton," she told him, and as he got out his card
and wrote it down, she added the California address. It recalled to his
mind that she had told him her name was Rose Stanton on the day he had
given her a job, and the memory diverted him for a moment. Then he
pulled himself back.

"They'll be annoyed, of course--Goldsmith and Block. But, after all,
you've given them more than their money's worth already. Well--will you
come if I write?"

"It seems to be too wonderful to be true," she said. "Yes, I'll come, of
course."

He sat there gazing at her in a sort of fascination. Because she was
fairly lambent with the wonder of it. Her eyes were starry, her lips a
little parted, and she was so still she seemed not even to be breathing.
But the eyes weren't looking at him. Another vision filled them. The
vision--oh, he was sure of it now!--of that "only one," whoever he was,
that mattered.

He thrust back his chair with an abruptness that startled her out of her
reverie, and the action, rough as it was, wasn't violent enough to
satisfy the sudden exasperation that seized him. If he could have
smashed the caraffe or something ...

"I won't keep you any longer," he said. "I'll have them get a taxi and
send you home."

She said she didn't want a taxi