"For the man I loved--in the story," she explained. "I was 'emoting'--as they call it--over his death. The inspiration was provided by the orchestra you heard playing. My director thinks it's wonderful that I can shed tears whenever he asks me to. He says it's a relief not to have to substitute drops of glycerine or hold a raw onion under his leading woman's nose to bring about the required lachrymal effect. To be able to cry easily before the camera, he says, is the supreme test, because to shed real tears you must have imagination and imagination is everything." "And how do you do it?" "There are plenty of causes for tears in life, far too many, don't you think?" she said. "When my director calls for tears I simply think of one of the many--pictures I have seen of starving children, an empty stocking at Christmas time, a homeless kitten, an orphan baby." "Don't you ever think of the story and cry because you are carried away by the imaginative sorrow of the death of the man you love?" "No," she said, laughing. "How can I? Most of the time I'm really glad--not in the story, of course--that he's out of the picture. The publicity man always refers to me as a star of the emotional type and writes yards upon yards of stuff about how I actually 'live' the part I am playing. My imagination doesn't carry me that far, though, and if imagination is everything, as my director says, the publicity man should be the greatest actor living." "I don't pay much attention to pictures, but I can't remember ever having seen your name or photograph in the advertisements," he said. "Have you ever noticed the name of Jean Hope?" "Often." "That is the name I took when I had advanced far enough to be featured. It was suggested to me by the publicity man, who insisted upon it being short and snappy, as he said, something that would be easy to remember and easy to put into type. Of course, I am not obscured to my friends, who all know that I am Jean Hope. Only once have I had to be positively firm with the publicity man and that was when he wanted to make me the subject of a newspaper story that society girls, as he called them, were intent upon becoming motion picture actresses. That, for the sake of my friends, I simply had to refuse." "I think," he said slowly, "that the name your father calls you is the prettiest of them all." "Mi Primavera?" "Yes, does anyone else call you that?" "Only father," she said. "That is his pet name for me--'My Springtime.'" "You know," he said, "the story you told me of the naming of Spring street; how Ord, the surveyor, named it for his sweetheart, whom he called 'Mi Primavera,' is incomplete. Tell me, if you know, did he eventually marry the beautiful Senorita Trinidad de la Guerra?" "I have often wondered that, myself," she said. "Whether they were married or not--what a gallant, romantic thing it was for him to do." "And how few know the story!" he added.