The affairs of Amy Fairweather and Richard Flanders require
explanation. When two good-looking young people meet as these two met,
and betray such surprising emotion, it goes without saying that at
least one episode in their joint history deserves the undivided
attention of the onlooker, who, in this case, happens to be you, kind
reader. It must be perfectly clear to you that Miss Fairweather and
Mr. Flanders were, at one time in their lives, more than moderately
interested in each other. That part of their story does not require
elucidation. Indeed, only an intelligence of the most extraordinary
denseness would demand the bald, matter-of-fact declaration that they
had been in love with each other. What we are concerned about,
therefore, is an episode of the early spring in the present year of
our story.

It is quite simple, after all. We have only to go back a year to get
to the bottom of the matter. Miss Fairweather and Mr. Flanders were
fellow lodgers in a boarding-house not far removed from Times Square.
She was playing a small part in one of the Broadway theatres and was
known on the programme as Amy Colgate, the customary sop to "family
feelings" causing her to abandon her own name during the neophytic
period of her career. This was a temporary concession, however; she
intended to make the family name famous as soon as she got a "part"
that would give her a real chance. Flanders was on the newspaper, but
his aspirations were quite as lofty as any one's: he was writing a
play. He had already written two novels, both of which remained
unpublished.

At the outset, his play was intended for Miss Barrymore, but after the
second week of his acquaintance with the attractive Miss Colgate his