"Evidently not!" she retorted. "Or you wouldn't wonder! As if anybody
could forget me, once they'd seen me! I believe you're pulling my leg,
though. Do you live in town?"

"I live," replied Copplestone slowly and with affected solemnity, "in
chambers in Jermyn Street."

"And do you mean to tell me that you didn't see me last year in _The
Clever Lady Hartletop?_" she exclaimed.

Copplestone put the tips of his fingers together and his head on one side
and regarded her critically.

"What part did you play?" he asked innocently.

"Part? Why, _the_ part, of course!" she retorted. "Goodness! Why, I
created it! And played it to crowded houses for nearly two hundred
nights, too!"

"Ah!" said Copplestone. "But I'll make a confession to you. I rarely
visit the theatre. I never saw _Lady Hartletop._ I haven't been in a
theatre of any sort for two years. So you must forgive me. I congratulate
you on your success."

Addie received this tribute with a mollified smile, which changed to a
glance of surprised curiosity.

"You never go to the theatre?--and yet you write plays!" she exclaimed.
"That's queer, isn't it? But I believe writing people are queer--they
look it, anyhow. All the same, you don't look like a writer--what does he