She checked herself again. "Oh! Oh!" she said, half-laughing,
half-ashamed. "I've never talked so much in my life! You see it
seems to me that the whole world has just burst into bloom!"

She radiated a happiness that was almost tangible; it was a glow
so real it seemed to warm and light that dingy old passageway.
Certainly it warmed and lighted the young man who stood there
with her. For him, too, the whole world was transfigured, and
life just an orchard to walk through in perpetual April morning.

The voice of Packer proclaimed: "Two o'clock, ladies and
gentlemen! Rehearsal two o'clock this afternoon!"

The next moment he looked into the passageway. "This afternoon's
rehearsal, two o'clock, Miss--ahh--Malone. Oh, Mr. Canby, Mr.
Potter wants you to go to lunch with him and Mr. Tinker. He's
waiting. This way, Mr. Canby."

"In a moment," said the young playwright. "Miss Malone, you
spoke of your going home to work at making yourself into 'the
adorable girl' I had in my mind when I wrote your part. It
oughtn't"--he faltered, growing red--"it oughtn't to take much--
much work!"

And, breathless, he followed the genially waiting Packer.