“Miss Terry? Dear me! Really! So you are the young man of whom she spoke. The young man I advised her not to lose sight of.” “You advised her?” “Certainly. I sensed that you might prove a valuable sheet-anchor to—well, rather a will-o’-the-wisp little craft. I hope, Mr. Churchill, you have come to carry her away to the hymeneal altar?” “That’s what I did come for, but, thanks to your teaching, it’s all knocked on the head.” “My teaching?” “Yes. Since you taught her to get herself up—talk a lot of silly theatrical shop, and put on stagey ways.” “My dear young man, those very stagey ways you speak of are none of my teaching. Indeed, but for their existence I might have done something to advance the little lady in her profession. It was their presence dissuaded me and also caused me to advise her not to lose touch with you.” “What do you mean?” “There are many young and very foolish girls whom the glamour of the stage attracts—who are in no way suited, nor try to suit themselves, for success upon the boards. Oddly enough, they solace their souls with trumpery talk and silly vanities. They are good enough in themselves, but weak, do you see? Unable to grasp the essentials of a fine picture while hypnotised with the glitter of a cheap gilt frame. With a little care—a little sympathy—a little tact—they can be won away from where they are not wanted to where they are wanted. Now I advise you to talk to this little runaway very gently. Condole with her on the lack of opportunity she has had, but plead your love as a finer and greater outlet for her self-expression. Do this, Mr. Churchill, and upon my word, within a month you’ll be happily house-hunting, with her hand upon your arm.” “It’s no good,” said Henry Churchill. “I have talked to her.” “What did you say?” “Told her I heartily disapproved of everything she was doing.” “That was unwise.” “I believe in saying what I think.” “Yet people who always say what they think rarely have the privilege of doing what they like. You have made a regrettable mistake, and there is nothing left for you to do but leave her horizon until the memory of it has vanished.” “But I want to marry her.” “Precisely. Hence my suggestion.” “Look here: will you promise not to re-engage her after this piece?” “Why should I?” “I want to get her out of this business.” “You would not achieve your object that way. She is pretty enough to ensure her getting another engagement, and while she is with me she is unlikely to come to any harm. No; I shall engage her and re-engage her for one crowd after another, in the hope that she will surfeit of walking on, and that it will soak into her little head that she is not destined for a great career. And now, good night, Mr. Churchill—some matters of business——” But Henry did not move at once. “I am not at all sure,” he said, “you are going about this business in the best way.”