unfavourable opinion of his enterprise had engendered in him, Ford was
obviously provoked by Hubert's reluctance to execute the alterations he had
suggested. Night after night, sometimes until six in the morning, Hubert
sat up considering them. Thanks to Ford's timely advance he was back in his
old rooms in Fitzroy Street. All was as it had been. He was working at his
play every evening, waiting for Rose's footsteps on the stairs. And yet a
change had come into his life! He believed now that his feet were set on
the way to fortune--that he would soon be happy.

He stared at the bright flame of the lamp, he listened to the silence. The
clock chimed sharply, and the windows were growing grey. Hubert had begun
to drowse in his chair; but he had promised to rewrite the young girl's
part, Ford having definitely refused to intrust Rose with the part of the
adventuress. He was sorry for this. He believed that Rose had not only
talent, but genius. Besides, they were friends, neighbours; he would like
to give her a chance of distinguishing herself--the chance which she was
seeking. All the time he could not but realise that, however he might
accentuate and characterise the part of the sentimental girl, Rose would
not be able to do much with it. To bring out her special powers something
strange, wild, or tragic was required. But of what use thinking of what was
not to be? Having made some alterations and additions he folded his papers
up, and addressed them to Miss Massey. He wrote on a piece of paper that
they were to be given to her at once, and that he was to be called at ten.
There was a rehearsal at twelve.

On the night of the first performance, Hubert asked Rose to dine in his
rooms. Mr. Wilson proposed that they should have a roast chicken, and Annie
was sent to fetch a bottle of champagne from the grocer's. Annie had been
given a ticket for the pit. Mrs. Wilson was going to the upper boxes. Annie
said,--