And he, jumping to the conclusion that it was Dorothy who wanted to go upon the stage, felt a pang of disappointment that surprised him by its sharpness, as he somewhat gravely answered: "It was not insincere. You know well enough," nodding his head toward Claire Morrell, "that this week's return to the fountain-head of English drama has not been made from love or from a desire to improve public taste. You know it is but a catch-penny device--an advertisement. I might"--he glanced at the wrapt face of the young Laertes as he spoke--"I might have served art once. Indeed, I know it; but"--he laughed a hard little laugh--"art and mammon are no more to be served by the same man than God and mammon, and he who serves art entirely and lovingly will have mighty little to show for his labor!" "At least," broke in Sybil, hotly, with dark face aglow, "he would have the joy of his unskimped service and the comfort of a thorough self-respect!" And again Thrall felt that swift pang of regret that this was not the stage aspirant. For to himself he had been saying: "These innocent, wholesome girls are two buds in the garden of life. This fair one, like a pale blush-rose, reaches her most perfect beauty now, in the close-folded bud form; later its perfect blossoming will reveal it pale and shallow, though very sweet. But the other one, she with the lustrous eyes and the mutinous red mouth, is like one of the red damask buds of Southern France, now ideally beautiful, yet the opening of velvety petals will betray depth after depth of deepening color, free wave after wave of perfume, until the very sweetest, the very purest tint of glowing color, will be found at last in the deep splendor of the fully open heart! Yes, this girl will blossom into a splendid womanhood. And what a face for the stage!" And then he was aware of Miss Morrell setting down her cup and saying, briskly: "A little business now, Mr. Manager, if you please! Miss Lawton here is very keen to go upon the stage. She is immensely ambitious, absolutely without experience, but humble in mind enough to be willing to begin at the bottomest bottom. I would gladly give her her start in my company, if I had room for her, and I would not ask you to consider her wish if I did not truly believe she had in her the making of a good actress." Mr. Thrall turned surprised eyes toward the happily smiling Dorothy. Sybil had gone white when her friend began to speak for her, and sat still and cold, waiting for her doom. "In heaven's name!" thought he. "What has come to the Morrell--to think that child can act?" Then he glanced at the rigid figure of Sybil, and said, slowly: "And you--have you no desire for the stage life?" She raised her dark eyes, and said, very low: "I would give my soul to act!" Miss Morrell's nervous fingers closed sharply. She wished the girl had not said that, and in the same instant Dorothy exclaimed: "Oh, Miss Morrell, Mr. Thrall thought you were speaking of me!"