She looked at him doubtfully.

"They tell strange stories about her," she said; "but oh, she is so
beautiful! If I were a man, I should fall in love with her if she
even looked my way."

"Then I am glad," he answered, "that I am less impressionable."

"And you are not in love with her?" she asked eagerly.

"Why should I be?" he laughed. "She is like a wonderful picture, a
marvelous statue, if you will. Everything about her is faultless.
But one looks at these things calmly enough, you know. It is life
which stirs life."

"Do you think that there is no life in her veins, then?" Zoe asked.

"If there is," he answered, "I do not think that I am the man to stir
it."

She drew a little sigh of content.

"You see," she said, "you are my first admirer, and I haven't the
least desire to let you go."

"Incredible!" he declared.

"But it is true," she answered earnestly. "You would not have me
talk to these boys who come and hang on at the stage-door. The men