she. "I didn't realize until too late what it meant, but, you see,
I was tired of working, tired of ambition, and I wanted to come
home. Thank God I have no people! I save all the money I can, and
when I get enough I'm going to take Agnes Smith out of the moth-
balls, dust her off tenderly, and go to raising ducks."

"Ducks? What do you mean?"

"What I say. That has always been my ambition."

"Why not quit now?"

"What's the use? I'm half-way through the swamp; the mud is as
deep behind as it is in front. But I'm deathly afraid all the time
that I'll be found out--I'd--rather be notorious than ridiculous.
Of course, Aubrey sees to that."

"Are you fond of him?"

Adoree turned up her nose. "He's a little pink rabbit. I don't
like any man, and I never have. There's only one I'd really care
to meet; his name is Campbell Pope."

"The critic. He IS nice."

"The beast. Did you read what he said about me? I'll never rest
until I have a lock of his hair that I've plucked myself. I'd love
to have his whole scalp--with say, one ear attached--hanging on my
bureau where I could see it every morning when I wake up. Somehow
I don't seem to mind the press stuff that Aubrey puts out, but