"Very well: the woman tempted me."
"Haven't you a better epigram?"
"Perhaps I am saving them."
"For what?"
"Who knows that I am not writing a play?"
"I live here; a card will find me on Thursdays after four."
"I will come Wednesdays, thereby saving you the trouble."
"That is not wit; it is rudeness. Do not come either Thursdays or
Wednesdays."
"How shall you know who it is?"
"Trust a woman."
"Ah, here comes the butler with the liqueurs. I am glad. Presently I
should be making love to you; now I am about to be free."
"Are you quite sure?"--with a penetrating glance. I believe she knew the
power of her beauty.
"Well, I shall be free to go home where I belong,"--compromising.
And I rose. Perhaps the drollest episode of the dinner took place as I
started for the door.
"Ever heard of Starlight?" cried Uncle Daniel down the room. "No? Well,
she's down on the winter books at fifty to one. Stack your money on her
now; it's a hunch."
"Thank you," said I. I did not have the courage to ask him what a
"hunch" was.
"Good night," said I to the girl, bowing.
"Good night," smiling.
I wonder if she knew that I had stolen the rose? On the way home my mind
returned to my play. Had the fourth act gone off as smoothly as the
others?
What a girl for a man!
The curtain fell on the first act, and the thrilling sound of beating
hands came to me dimly.
"They are calling for you," said Shaw excitedly.
"What am I to do?"--nervously.
"What? Haven't you thought out something to say?"--disgustedly.
"Nary a word!"
"Well, just lead out Miss Blank and bow. You're not an old hand, so they
will let you off without a speech."
So I led the young woman who had helped to make me famous to the
footlights, and bowed. I do not know what caused me to glance up toward
the left upper proscenium, but I did so ... and felt my heart stop and
then throb violently. It was Miss Berkeley. Heaven only knows how long I
should have stared at her but for the warning pressure of the actress'
hand over mine. We disappeared behind the curtain. I was confused by
many emotions.
While the hands were shifting about the next "set" a boy handed me the
crumpled margin of a program. I unfolded it and read: "Will 'Mr.
Anonymous' do Miss Berkeley the honor of visiting her box?"
"Mr. Anonymous" presented himself forthwith. Miss Berkeley was with an
elderly woman, who proved to be her grandaunt. I was introduced.
"Aunty, this is the gentleman I told you about. Isn't it terrible?"
"Terrible? I should call it wholly enchanting. Sir, you will pardon the
child for her wildness. My nephew doesn't know as much as his celebrated
horses. Now, go ahead and talk while I look over the audience."
If only all elderly ladies were as thoughtful!
"And I have read your books; I have witnessed your play!" Miss Berkeley
said.
"Thursday, after four?"
"No. Everybody calls then. Come Wednesday."
"I have a confession to make," said I. "You dropped a rose on the floor
last night. I stole it. Must I return it to you?"
"I never do anything without a purpose," was all she said.
So I kept the rose.