"Success."

As the great scene came closer, I seemed to hold my breath. I was so
afraid that the audience might not see it as we had seen it at
rehearsal. But they did see it, and it was a stupendous thing to sit
there and watch the crowd, and know that Jimmie's genius was making its
heart beat fast and faster. When Ursula in her purple cloak and
pheasant's feather spoke her lines at the end of the third act, "_I
shall love you for a million years_," the house went wild. Men and women
who had never loved for a moment roared for this woman who had made them
think they could love until eternity. They wanted her back and they got
her. They wanted Jimmie and they got him. Ursula made a speech; Jimmie
made a speech. They came out for uncounted curtain-calls, hand-in-hand.
The play was a success!

The last act was, of course, an anti-climax. Before it was finished,
Elise said to me, in a, stifled voice, "I've got to get back to Jimmie."

It seemed significant that Jimmie had not come to her. Surely he had not
forgotten the part she had played. For fifteen years she had worked for
this.

We found ourselves presently behind the scenes. The curtain was down,
the audience was still shouting, everybody was excited, everybody was
shaking hands. The stage-people caught at Elise as she passed, and held
her to offer congratulations. I was not held and went on until I came to
where Jimmie and Ursula stood, a little separate from the rest. Although
I went near enough to touch them, they were so absorbed in each other
that they did not see me. Ursula was looking up at Jimmie and his head
was bent to her.