He stared dumbly at the evidence in his hand. He recalled distinctly
the rage that was in his heart when he penned this note. The stage
manager had lost some valuable manuscript that had to be rewritten
from memory, the notes having been destroyed.

"For weeks," said the girl, "I have tried to get a hearing. Manager
after manager I sought; all refused to see me. I have suffered a
hundred affronts, all in silence. Your manager I saw, but he referred
me to you, knowing that probably I should never find you. But I was
determined. So I wrote; that was your answer. I confess that at the
time I was terribly angry, for courtesy is a simple thing and within
reach of every one."

To receive a lesson in manners from a young woman, when that young
woman is handsome and talented, is not a very pleasant experience. But
Warrington was, a thorough gentleman, and he submitted with grace.

"I know that you are a busy man, that you are besieged with
applications. You ought, at least, to have formal slips, such as
editors have. I have confidence in my ability to act, the confidence
which talent gives to all persons. After receiving your letter I was
more than ever determined to see you. So I resorted to this
subterfuge. It was all very distasteful to me; but I possess a vein of
wilfulness. This is not my home. It is the home of a friend who was
kind enough to turn it over to me this night, relying upon my wit to
bring about this meeting."

"It was neatly done," was Warrington's comment. He was not angry now
at all. In fact, the girl interested him tremendously. "I am rather