actress come to pester me for a part I should have foreseen a very
pleasant quarter of an hour. "I can spare you only a moment,
mademoiselle," I said, ruffling blank paper.

"It is most kind of you to spare me that."

I liked her voice too. "Be seated," I said more graciously.

"Monsieur, I have come to implore you to do something for me. I am
breaking my heart in the profession for want of a helping hand. Will
you be generous and give me a chance?"

"My dear mademoiselle--er--Laurent," I said, "I sympathise with your
difficulties, and I thoroughly understand them, but I have no
engagement to offer you--I am not a manager."

She smiled bitterly. "You are de Varenne--a word from you would 'make'
me!"

I was wondering what her age was. About eight-and-twenty, I thought,
but alternately she looked much younger and much older.

"You exaggerate my influence--like every other artist that I consent to
see. Hundreds have sat in that chair and cried that I could 'make'
them. It is all bosh. Be reasonable! I cannot 'make' anybody."

"You could cast me for a part in Paris. You are 'not a manager,' but
any manager will engage a woman that you recommend. Oh, I know that
hundreds appeal to you, I know that I am only one of a crowd; but,
monsieur, think what it means to me! Without help, I shall go on