"You are mistaken in that, for we have never met," she said slowly, and
with emphasis. "Moreover, Beth Norvell is my stage name, but in part
it is my true name also." Suddenly she paused and glanced aside at
him. "I have spoken with unusual frankness to you this morning, Mr.
Winston. Most people, I imagine, find me diffident and
uncommunicative--perhaps I appear according to my varying moods. But I
have been lonely, and in some way you have inspired my confidence and
unlocked my life. I believe you to be a man worthy of trust, and
because I thus believe I am now going to request you not to ask me any
more. My past life has not been so bright that I enjoy dwelling upon
it. I have chosen rather to forget it entirely, and live merely for
the future."

They were standing before the door of the ladies' entrance to the hotel
by this time, and the young man lifted his hat gravely.

"Your wish shall certainly be respected," he said with courtesy, "yet
that does not necessarily mean that our friendship is to end here."

Her face became transfigured by a sudden smile, and she impulsively
extended her hand.

"Assuredly not, if you can withstand my vagaries. I have never made
friends easily, and am the greater surprised at my unceremonious
frankness with you. Yet that only makes it harder to yield up a
friendship when once formed. Do you intend, then, to remain with the
company? I have no choice, but you have the whole world."

"Yet, my intense devotion to the art of the Thespian holds me captive."