be idiotic enough to take my comedy, and if he should, you must
play Nancy."

"I would not ask for any salary if I could play Nancy," Miss
Cavendish answered.

They spoke of a great many things, but their talk always ended by
her saying that there must be some one with sufficient sense to
see that his play was a great play, and by his saying that none
but she must play Nancy.

The Lion preferred the tall girl with masses and folds of brown
hair, who came from America to paint miniatures of the British
aristocracy. Her name was Helen Cabot, and he liked her because
she was so brave and fearless, and so determined to be
independent of every one, even of the lodger--especially of
the lodger, who it appeared had known her very well at home. The
lodger, they gathered, did not wish her to be independent of him
and the two Americans had many arguments and disputes about it,
but she always said, "It does no good, Philip; it only hurts us
both when you talk so. I care for nothing, and for no one but my
art, and, poor as it is, it means everything to me, and you do
not, and, of course, the man I am to marry, must." Then Carroll
would talk, walking up and down, and looking very fierce and
determined, and telling her how he loved her in such a way that
it made her look even more proud and beautiful. And she would
say more gently, "It is very fine to think that any one can care
for like that, and very helpful. But unless I cared in the same
way it would be wicked of me to marry you, and besides--" She
would add very quickly to prevent his speaking again--" I don't