thought　I　knew　all　the　tricks　and　turns　of　the　sex。　Yet　here　I　am！''
  ‘‘What　do　you　think　caught　you？''
  ‘‘That's　the　mystery。　　It's　simply　that　I　can't　do　without　her。　　Everything　she　looks　and　says　and　does　interests　me　more　than　anything　else　in　the　world。　　And　when　I'm　not　with　her　I'm　wishing　I　were　and　wondering　how　she's　looking　or　what　she's　saying　or　doing。　　You　don't　think　she'll　refuse　me？''　　This　last　with　real　anxiety。
  ‘‘I　haven't　an　idea；''　replied　Mrs。　Brindley。　　‘‘She's　peculiar。　　In　some　moods　she　would。　　In　others；　she　couldn't。　　And　I've　never　been　able　to　settle　to　my　satisfaction　which　kind　of　mood　was　the　real　Mary　Stevens。''
  ‘‘She　IS　queer；　isn't　she？''　said　Stanley　thoughtfully。　‘‘But　I've　told　her　she'd　be　free　to　go　on　with　the　career。　Fact　is；　I　want　her　to　do　it。''
  Mrs。　Brindley's　eyes　twinkled。　　‘‘You　think　it　would　justify　you　to　your　set　in　marrying　her；　if　she　made　a　great　hit？''
  Stanley　blushed　ingenuously。　　‘‘I'll　not　deny　that　has　something　to　do　with　it；''　he　admitted。　　‘‘And　why　not？''
  ‘‘Why　not；　indeed？''　said　she。　　‘‘But；　after　she　had　made　the　hit；　you'd　want　her　to　quit　the　stage　and　take　her　place　in　society。　　Isn't　that　so？''
  ‘‘You　ARE　a　keen　one；''　exclaimed　he　admiringly。　‘‘But　I　didn't　say　that　to　her。　　And　you　won't；　will　you？''
  ‘‘It's　hardly　necessary　to　ask　that；''　said　Mrs。　Brindley。　　‘‘Now；　suppose　　You　don't　mind　my　talking　about　this？''
  ‘‘What　I　want；''　replied　he。　　‘‘I　can't　talk　or　think　anything　but　her。''
  ‘‘Now；　suppose　she　shouldn't　make　a　hit。　　Suppose　she　should　failshould　not　develop　reliable　voice　enough？''
  Stanley　looked　frightened。　　‘‘But　she　can't　fail；''　he　cried　with　over…energy。　　‘‘There's　no　question　about　her　voice。''
  ‘‘I　understand；''　Mrs。　Brindley　hastened　to　say。　　‘‘I　was　simply　making　conversation　with　her　as　the　subject。''
  ‘‘Oh；　I　see。''　　Stanley　settled　back。
  ‘‘Suppose　she　should　prove　not　to　be　a　great　artist　what　then？''　persisted　Cyrilla；　who　was　deeply　interested　in　the　intricate　obscure　problem　of　what　people　really　thought　as　distinguished　from　what　they　professed　and　also　from　what　they　imagined　they　thought。
  ‘‘The　fact　that　she's　a　great　artistthat's　part　of　her；''　said　Baird。　　‘‘If　she　weren't　a　great　singer；　she　wouldn't　be　shedon't　you　see？''
  ‘‘Yes；　I　see；''　said　Mrs。　Brindley　with　an　ironic　sadness　which　she　indulged　openly　because　there　was　no　danger　of　his　understanding。
  ‘‘I　don't　exactly　love　her　because　she　amounts　to　a　lotor　is　sure　to；''　pursued　he；　vaguely　dissatisfied　with　himself。　　‘‘It's　just　as　she　doesn't　care　for　me　because　I've　got　the　means　to　take　care　of　her　right；　yet　that's　part　of　meand　she'd　not　be　able　to　marry　me　if　I　hadn't。　　Don't　you　see？''
  ‘‘Yes；　I　see；''　said　Mrs。　Brindley　with　more　irony　and　less　sadness。　　‘‘There's　always　SOME　reason　beside　love。''
  ‘‘I'd　say　there's　always　some　reason　FOR　love；''　said　Baird；　and　he　felt　that　he　had　said　something　brilliant　as　is　the　habit　of　people　of　sluggish　mentality　when　they　say　a　thing　they　do　not　themselves　understand。　‘‘You　don't　doubt　that　I　love　her？''　he　went　on。　　‘‘Why　should　I　ask　her　to　marry　me　if　I　didn't？''
  ‘‘I　suppose　that　settles　it；''　said　Cyrilla。
  ‘‘Of　course　it　does；''　declared　he。
  For　an　hour　he　sat　there；　talking　on；　most　of　it　a　pretty　dull　kind　of　drivel。　　Mrs。　Brindley　listened　patiently；　because　she　liked　him　and　because　she　had　nothing　else　to　do　until　bedtime。　　At　last　he　rose　with　a　long　sigh　and　said：
  ‘‘I　guess　I　might　as　well　be　going。''
  ‘‘She'll　not　come　in　to…night　again；''　said　Cyrilla　slyly。
  He　laughed。　　‘‘You　are　a　good　one。　　I'll　own　up；　I've　been　staying　on　partly　in　the　hope　that　she'd　come　back。　　But　it's　been　a　great　joy　to　talk　to　you　about　her。　　I　know　you　love　her；　too。''
  ‘‘Yes；　I'm　extremely　fond　of　her；''　said　she。　　‘‘I've　not　known　many　womenmany　people　without　petty　mean　tricks。　　She's　one。''
  ‘‘Isn't　she；　though？''　exclaimed　he。
  ‘‘I　don't　mean　she's　perfect；''　said　Mrs。　Brindley。　‘‘I　don't　even　mean　that　she's　as　angelic　as　you　think　her。　　I'd　not　like　her；　if　she　were。　　But　she's　a　superior　kind　of　human。''
  She　was　tired　of　him　now；　and　got　him　out　speedily。　As　she　closed　the　front　door　upon　him；　Mildred's　door；　down　the　hall；　opened。　　Her　head　appeared；　an　inquiring　look　upon　her　face。　　Mrs。　Brindley　nodded。　　Mil…　dred；　her　hair　done　close　to　her　head；　a　dressing…robe　over　her　nightgown　and　her　bare　feet　in　little　slippers；　came　down　the　hall。　　She　coiled　herself　up　in　a　big　chair　in　the　library　and　lit　a　cigarette。　　She　looked　like　a　handsome　young　boy。
  ‘‘He　told　you？''　she　said　to　Mrs。　Brindley。
  ‘‘Yes；''　replied　Cyrilla。
  Silence。　　In　all　their　intimate　acquaintance　there　had　never　been　an　approach　to　the　confidential　on　either　side。　　It　was　Cyrilla's　notion　that　confidences　were　a　mistake；　and　that　the　more　closely　people　were　thrown　together　the　more　resolutely　they　ought　to　keep　certain　barriers　between　them。　　She　and　Mildred　got　on　too　admirably；　liked　each　other　too　well；　for　there　to　be　any　trifling　with　their　relationsand　over…intimacy　inevitably　led　to　trifling。　　Mildred　had　restrained　herself　because　Mrs。　Brindley　had　compelled　it　by　rigid　example。　　Often　she　had　longed　to　talk　things　over；　to　ask　advice；　but　she　had　never　ventured　further　than　generalities；　and　Mrs。　Brindley　had　never　proffered　advice；　had　never　accepted　opportunities　to　give　it　except　in　the　vaguest　way。　　She　had　taught　Mildred　a　great　deal；　but　always　by　example；　by　doing；　never　by　saying　what　ought　or　ought　not　to　be　done。　　Thus；　such　development　of　Mildred's　character　as　there　had　been　was　natural　and　permanent。
  ‘‘He　has　put　me　in　a　peculiar　position；''　said　Mildred。　　‘‘Or；　rather；　I　have　let　myself　drift　into　a　peculiar　position。　　For　I　think　you're　right　in　saying　that　oneself　is　always　to　blame。　　Won't　you　let　me　talk　about　it　to　you；　please？　　I　know　you　hate　confidences。　But　I've　got　toto　talk。　　I'd　like　you　to　advise　me；　if　you　can。　　But　even　if　you　don't；　it'll　do　me　good　to　say　things　aloud。''
  ‘‘Often　one　sees　more　clearly；''　was　Cyrilla's　reply　noncommittal；　yet　not　discouraging。
  ‘‘I'm　free　to　marry　him；''　Mildred　went　on。　　‘‘That　is；　I'm　not　married。　　I'd　rather　not　explain''
  ‘‘Don't；''　said　Mrs。　Brindley。　　‘‘It's　unnecessary。''
  ‘‘You　know　that　it's　Stanley　who　has　been　lending　me　the　money　to　live　on　while　I　study。　　Well；　from　the　beginning　I've　been　afraid　I'd　find　myself　in　a　difficult　position。''
  ‘‘Naturally；''　said　Mrs。　Brindley；　as　she　paused。
  ‘‘But　I've　always　expected　it　to　come　in　another　waynot　about　marriage；　but''
  ‘‘I　understand；''　said　Mrs。　Brindley。　　‘‘You　feared　you'd　be　called　on　to　pay　in　the　way　women　usually　pay　debts　to　men。''
  Mildred　nodded。　　‘‘But　this　is　worse　than　I　expected　much　worse。''
  ‘‘I　hadn't　thought　of　that；''　said　Cyrilla。　　‘‘Yes；　you're　right。　　If　he　had　hinted　the　other　thing；　you　could　have　pretended　not　to　understand。　　If　he　had　suggested　it；　you　could　have　made　him　feel　cheap　and　mean。''
  ‘‘I　did；''　said　Mildred。　　‘‘He　has　beenreally　wonderfulbetter　than　almost　any　man　would　have　been　more　considerate　than　I　deserved。　　And　I　took　advantage　of　it。''
  ‘‘A　woman　has　to；''　said　Cyrilla。　　‘‘The　fight　between　men　and　women　is　so　unequal。''
  ‘‘I　took　advantage　of　him；''　repeated　Mildred。　‘‘And　he　apologized；　and　II　went　on　taking　the　money。　　I　didn't　know　what　else　to　do。　　Isn't　that　dreadful？''
  ‘‘Nothing　to　be　proud　of；''　said　Cyrilla。　　‘‘But　a　very　usual　transaction。''
  ‘‘And　then；''　pursued　Mildred；　‘‘I　discovered　that　Ithat　I'd　not　be　able　to　make　a　career。　　But　still　I　kept　on；　though　I've　been　trying　to　force　myself　to　to　show　some　pride　and　self…respect。　　I　discovered　it　only　a　short　time　ago；　and　it　wasn't　really　until　to…day　that　I　was　absolutely　sure。''
  ‘‘You　ARE　sure？''
  ‘‘There's　hardly　a　doubt；''　replied　Mildred。　　‘‘But　never　mind　that　now。　　I've　got　to　make　a　living　at　something；　and　while　I'm　learning　whatever　it　is；　I've　got　to　have　money　to　live　on。　　And　I　can　get　it　only　from　him。　　Now；　he　asks　me　to　marry　him。　　He　wouldn't　ask　me　if　he　didn't　think　I　was　going　to　be　a　great　singer。　　He　doesn't　know　it；　but　I　do。''
  Mrs。　Brindley　smiled　sweetly。
  ‘‘And　he　thinks　that　I　love　him；　also。　　If　I　accept　him；　it　will　be　under　doubly　false　pretenses。　　If　I　refuse　him　I've　got　to　stop　taking　the　money。''
  A　long　silence；　then　Mrs。　Brindley　said：　　‘‘Women　the　good　ones；　toooften　feel　that　they've　a　right　to　treat　men　as　men　treat　them。　　I　think　almost　any　woman　would　feel　justified　in　putting　off　the　crisis。''
  ‘‘You　mean；　I　might　tell　him　I'd　give　him　my　answer　when　I　was　independent　and　had　paid　back。''
  Cyrilla　nodded。　　Mildred　relit　her　cigarette；　which　she　had　let　go　out。　　‘‘I　had　thought　of　that；''　said　she。　‘‘ButI　doubt　if　he'd　tolerate　it。　　Also''she　laughed　with　the　peculiar　intonation　that　accompanies　the　lifting　of　the　veil　over　a　deeply　and　carefully　hidden　corner　of　one's　secret　self‘‘I　am　afraid。　　If　I　don't　marry　him；　in　a　few　weeks；　or　months　at　most；　he'll　probably　find　out　that　I　shall　never　be　a　great　singer；　and　then　I'd　not　be　able　to　marry　him　if　I　wished　to。''
  ‘‘He　IS　a　temptation；''　said　Cyrilla。　　‘‘That　is；　his　money　isand　he　perso