"A little dear, isn't he?"
"Yes, of course. But what has he done?"
"Why, he wrote a novel--I forget the name, but I have it somewhere. It
made a great sensation. But surely _you_ must know what it was?"
"No, no," Louise lamented. "I am ashamed to say I don't."
When the men joined the ladies, she lingered long enough to thank Mr.
Ray, and try to make him tell her the name of his novel. She at least
made him promise to let them know the next time he was in New York, and
she believed all he said of his regret that he was going home that
night. He sent many sweet messages to Maxwell, whom he wanted to talk
with about his play, and tell him all he had thought about it. He felt
sure that some manager would take it and bring it out in New York, and
again he exulted that it was out of the actor's hands. A manager might
not have an artistic interest in it; an actor could only have a personal
interest in it.