"But what will it lead to? Your attachment is not serious, I presume?" "I don't know but it may be. The fact is, Robert, I am in love." "Were you ever in love before, Mr. Palmer?" "Never. This is the first time I have met my ideal." "You surely wouldn't think of marrying her," said Robert. "Why not?" "I thought perhaps you would not care to marry on ten dollars a week." "I could not. But she is probably earning considerably more. If we both of us worked, there would be a nice income between us." "Then you would not object to your wife appearing in a theater?" "No, Robert. I have no narrow prejudices." "Then you think she would marry you?" "You saw for yourself how sweetly she smiled on me. Oh, Robert, I am very happy!" and the infatuated young man looked in the seventh heaven of bliss. "Excuse me for ten minutes, Robert," he said. "I am going into the Sherman House to write a note. I will try to get it to her this evening." Robert smiled. He was a good deal amused by Palmer's romantic infatuation, but he did not feel called upon to remonstrate with him. "I will wait for you here," he said. In fifteen minutes Livingston Palmer returned to his seat. "Well, have you written the note?" asked Robert. "Yes, here it is. Cast your eye over it, and see what you think of it." Robert glanced at the note. This was the way it was expressed: * * * * * "Adorable Alameda: "Doubtless you will know from whom this note comes. It is from the young man in the fourth row of the orchestra on whom you smiled so sweetly this evening. I am sure you read my devotion in my face. I have never spoken to you, but I feel that I love you, and I have never loved before. Will you appoint a time when I can meet you? Perhaps I flatter myself too much when I say that you seem to be kindly disposed towards me. I will send this by the usher, and will beg for a reply. "Yours devotedly, "Livingston Palmer." "What do you think of it?" asked Palmer eagerly. "I think it ought to make a favorable impression on the young lady," said Robert, doubtfully, however. "I think it is pretty good, myself," said Palmer complacently. When the entertainment was over, Palmer went up to one of the ushers. "My friend," he said, "do you know Miss Alameda Churchill, the singer?" "Yes, sir." "Can you manage to put this note into her hands?" "When?" "To-night." "Well, I might if----" "I will pay you for your trouble." "All right, sir. I see you are a gentleman. Give it to me." "I shall be glad if she will send me an answer." A few minutes later the usher returned. "Did you give it to her?" asked Palmer eagerly. "Yes, sir." "Did she send an answer?" "Here it is." It was a small scrap of paper, folded diagonally. Palmer opened and read it, his heart beating with feverish excitement. Then he smiled. "Shall I read it to you, Robert?" he asked. "Yes, if you like." * * * * *