I had not thought he would feel it deeply--because of having been interested in Leila since they went out in their perambulators together. But I could see it was a shock to him. He got up and stood looking in the fire, and his shoulders shook with grief. "So I have lost you," he said in a smothered voice. And then--"Who is the sneaking scoundrel?" I forgave him this, because of his being upset, and in a rapt attitude I told him the whole story. He listened, as one in a daze. "But I gather," he said, when at last the recital was over, "that you have never met the--met him." "Not in the ordinary use of the word," I remarked. "But then it is not an ordinary situation. We have met and we have not. Our eyes have spoken, if not our vocal chords." Seeing his eyes on me I added, "if you do not believe that soul can cry unto soul, Carter, I shall go no further." "Oh!" he exclaimed. "There is more, is there? I trust it is not painful, because I have stood as much as I can now without breaking down." "Nothing of which I am ashamed," I said, rising to my full height. "I have come to you for help, Carter. That play must not fail!" We faced each other over those vital words--faced, and found no solution. "Is it a good play?" he asked, at last. "It is a beautiful play. Oh, Carter, when at the end he takes his sweetheart in his arms--the leading lady, and not at all attractive. Jane Raleigh says that the star generally hates his leading lady--there is not a dry eye in the house." "Must be a jolly little thing. Well, of course I'm no theatrical manager, but if it's any good there's only one way to save it. Advertise. I didn't know the piece was in town, which shows that the publicity has been rotten." He began to walk the floor. I don't think I have mentioned it, but that is Carter's business. Not walking the floor. Advertising. Father says he is quite good, although only beginning. "Tell me about it," he said. So I told him that Adrian was a mill worker, and the villain makes him lose his position, by means of forgery. And Adrian goes to jail, and comes out, and no one will give him work. So he prepares to blow up a millionaire's house, and his sweetheart is in it. He has been to the millionaire for work and been refused and thrown out, saying, just before the butler and three footmen push him through a window, in dramatic tones, "The world owes me a living and I will have it." "Socialism!" said Carter. "Hard stuff to handle for the two dollar seats. The world owes him a living. Humph! Still, that's a good line to work on. Look here, Bab, give me a little time on this, eh what? I may be able to think of a trick or two. But mind, not a word to any one." He started out, but he came back. "Look here," he said. "Where do we come in on this anyhow? Suppose I do think of something--what then? How are we to know that your beloved and his manager will thank us for butting in, or do what we suggest?" Again I drew myself to my full height.