vast ambitions; she had sympathized with them, and her never-failing
encouragement had done not a little to stiffen his resolution at odd
times when the haven of Hollywood seemed all too distant. A certain
community of ambitions had been the foundation of this sympathy
between the two, for Tessie Kearns meant to become a scenario writer
of eminence, and, like Merton, she was now both studying and
practising a difficult art. She conducted the millinery and
dressmaking establishment next to the Gashwiler Emporium, but found
time, as did Merton, for the worthwhile things outside her narrow
life.

She was a slight, spare little figure, sedate and mouselike, of
middle age and, to the village, of a quiet, sober way of thought.
But, known only to Merton, her real life was one of terrific
adventure, involving crime of the most atrocious sort, and contact
not only with the great and good, but with loathsome denizens of the
underworld who would commit any deed for hire. Some of her scenarios
would have profoundly shocked the good people of Simsbury, and she
often suffered tremors of apprehension at the thought that one of
them might be enacted at the Bijou Palace right there on Fourth
Street, with her name brazenly announced as author. Suppose it were
Passion's Perils! She would surely have to leave town after that!
She would be too ashamed to stay. Still she would be proud, also,
for by that time they would be calling her to Hollywood itself. Of
course nothing so distressing--or so grand--had happened yet, for
none of her dramas had been accepted; but she was coming on. It
might happen any time.

She joined Merton, a long envelope in her hand and a brave little
smile on her pinched face.