“Yes--I’m as different as possible--out there,” she went on. “There are people I detest whom I’m sweet to because of what they are socially. I’m like the rest of the girls--crazy about social position and fond of snubbing people--and----” “Don’t tell me about it,” he interrupted gently, but with an expression in his straight, honest eyes that made her blush and hang her head. “I’m sorry for what you are when the black magician who rules beyond the bend takes possession of you. But what he does to you doesn’t change what the white magic makes of you here.” Her eyes, her whole face lighted up. “The white magic,” she repeated softly. After a brief reverie she came back to the subject and went on, “I told you because I--I’m ashamed to be a fraud with you.... I wonder if you’re really as big and honest as you seem? Nobody is--out there. They’re mean and petty!--when you see through what they pretend to be--pretend even to themselves. I’m just as big a fraud as the rest. And I often convince myself I’m sweet and good and-- If I could only--” There she stopped, leaving her wish unexpressed but easy to imagine. “The way to keep the little things out is to fill one’s mind with the big things,” said he. “But you’re not to blame for being what your surroundings compel.” “Do you think I could be different?” she asked, waiting in a sort of breathlessness for his answer. “I’ve not thought about it,” was his depressing answer. “Offhand I should say not. You’re at the age when almost everybody does a little thinking. But that’ll soon stop, and you’ll be what you were molded to be from babyhood.” “I know I don’t amount to much,” said she humbly. “Out there--under the black magic--I’m vain and proud. But here--I feel I’m just nothing.” “You’re a superb model,” said he consolingly. “Really--superb.” “Please don’t mock at me. Honestly, don’t you think I’m commonplace?” He gave her that fine, gentle smile of his, particularly fine coming from such a big, masculine sort of man. And he said, “Nothing that the sun shines on is commonplace.” * * * * * She developed strong curiosity as to the general aspects of his affairs--as to his hopes and fears for the future. Her efforts to draw him out on these subjects amused him. His frank confession that he was unknown in America threw her quite off the track; it never occurred to her that he might be known abroad. “And you have worked many years?” she said. “All my life.” She looked tenderly sympathetic distress. “Doesn’t your not being recognized discourage you?” she said. “Not a bit,” declared he, with every indication of sincerity. “Everything worth while takes time. Anyhow, I don’t much care. My living is secure. You see, I’m quite rich.” Her eyes opened wide. “Rich!” she exclaimed. “Really? Why, I thought--” There she halted, blushing. “Oh, yes. I’ve got forty thousand--not to speak of my land.”