have the right to say this. You will probably believe it, some day--if
you do not now. That is, you will believe it if you have the soul and the
intelligence of an artist--if you have not--it will not matter--and you
will be happy in your success."

As the novelist finished speaking, the two men arrived at the hotel steps,
where they halted, with that indecision of chance acquaintances who have
no plans beyond the passing moment, yet who, in mutual interest, would
extend the time of their brief companionship. While they stood there, each
hesitating to make the advance, a big touring car rolled up the driveway,
and stopped under the full light of the veranda. Aaron King recognized the
lady of the observation car platform, with her two traveling companions
and the heavy-faced man who had met them at the depot. As the party
greeted the novelist and he returned their salutation, the artist turned
away to find again the chair, where, an hour before, the strange character
who was to play so large a part in his life and work had found him. The
dog, Czar, as if preferring the companionship of the artist to the company
of those who were engaging his master's attention, followed the young man.

From where he sat, the painter could see the tall, uncouth figure of the
famous novelist standing beside the automobile, while the occupants of the
car were, apparently, absorbingly interested in what he was saying. The
beautiful face of the woman was brightly animated as she evidently took
the lead in the conversation. The artist could see her laughing and
shaking her head. Once, he even heard her speak the writer's name;
whereupon, every lounger upon the veranda, within hearing, turned to
observe the party with curious interest. Several times, the young man
noted that she glanced in his direction, half inquiringly, with a
suggestion of being pleased, as though she were glad to have seen him in
company with her celebrated friend. Then the man who held so large a place