Grant laughed as if she had said something much cleverer than she
could possibly realize. "That's a fact," admitted he. "It was
simply supreme common-sense. What a world for twaddle it is when
common-sense makes us sit up and stare.... But it's none the less
true that you're prejudiced against him."

"Why do you say that?"

"If you appreciated him you'd be as enthusiastic as I." There was
in his tone a faint hint of his unconscious satisfaction in her
failure to appreciate Craig.

"You can go very far astray," said she, "you, with your masculine
logic."

But Grant had guessed aright. Margaret had not listened
attentively to the speech because it interested her less than the
man himself. She had concentrated wholly upon him. Thus, alone of
all the audience, she had seen that Craig was playing a carefully-
rehearsed part, and, himself quite unmoved, was watching and
profiting by every hint in the countenance of his audience, the
old Justices. It was an admirable piece of acting; it was the
performance of a genius at the mummer's art. But the power of the
mummer lies in the illusion he creates; if he does not create
illusion, as Craig did not for Margaret, he becomes mere
pantomimist and mouther. She had never given a moment's thought to
public life as a career; she made no allowances for the fact that
a man's public appearances, no matter how sincere he is, must
always be carefully rehearsed if he is to use his powers with
unerring effect; she was simply like a child for the first time at