“You can't guess what brings me, Sue. First, I want you to run in town this evening.” She shook her head, slowly. “You'd better. It's an unusual event. It wouldn't do to miss it.” Her eyes wandered toward the hall behind the screen door, then off to the row of wooden houses across the street. “Nevertheless,” said she, “it's going to be missed, Jacob.” He studied her. “I'm debating with myself whether to tell you about it, Sue. Though it's a wonder you don't know. Haven't you followed the papers?” Again she shook her head. “I'm wondering, though,” she observed: “from the way you are talking, and from something Henry Bates said in a letter that came to-day--if it isn't the Nature film.” “That's it,” said he. “First performance tonight. Really don't you know?” “Not a thing. Jacob.” “Why, our old friend Silverstone is in on it. He bought out the Interstellar interest. We're featuring it. At a two-dollar house, Sue--think of that! _The Dawn of an Empire_ is nowhere. Unless it falls flat--which it won't!--there'll be a bit of money in it for all of us. What do you say now, eh!” “Money?” mused Sue, incredulous. “Regular money--even for the small interest you and Peter and I hold. But that's only the beginning. Listen here now, Sue! A little time has gone by. You've hidden yourself out here--let your spirit sag--so I suppose you may find some difficulty in grasping this. But the Nature film is you, child. You're half famous already, thanks to the way we're letting loose on publicity. You're going to be a sensation--a knock-out--once the blessed public sees that film. Remember this: just because you decided to be another sort of person you haven't become that other person. Not for a minute! The big world is tearing right along at the old speed and you with it. With it? No--ahead of it! That's what our old _Nature_, that you worked so hard on, is doing for you right now. Can you grasp that?” “Oh, yes,” said she listlessly, “I grasp it all right. But you're wrong in saying it is me. I am another person. Jacob--I couldn't go to see that film.” “Couldn't see it?” “No.” Her lips were compressed. “But, Sue--that's outrageous! It's fanatical!” “Maybe it is. I can't help it,” “You mean the frankness--the costuming--” She pressed her hands over her eyes. “And people from here will be slipping in to see it--sneaking in when they think their neighbors won't see them--and seeing me on exhibition there! And they will whisper. Oh, the vulgarity of it!... Jacob, don't talk about it. I can't! Please!” He studied her, through narrowed eyes. “The poor kid _is_ going through it!” he thought. “I had no idea!” Deliberately, with the coldness, the detachment, of his race, he considered the problem. At length he said: