But it never did come to him--not, at least, until he went home and looked it up--because, glancing at his hostess, he saw in those anxious, dark-fringed eyes that she wasn't a bit interested in his Gay letter; and so, with that tact that all artists possess if they will only use it, he said gently, "But it wasn't about autographs that you wanted to see me, was it? It's about your benefit." "The benefit?" "No? Well, what is it then?" "Oh, I hoped you would understand without my being obliged to dot all the _i_'s." She said this with a great deal of meaning. Leaning forward on her elbow, in her mauve and silver tea gown, behind her silver tea tray, she looked very charming. Valentine thought that he had never known a woman who combined such perfection of appointments with such simplicity of manner. He had a strong instinct for the best in any art. It struck him that for a certain sort of thing this was the best. She went on: "Perhaps you will think I should not have sent for you; but what could I do? I am so alone. My husband and I, as you perhaps know, are divorced." Valentine achieved just the right sort of murmur at this, indicating that he personally could not regret the fact, but found it of intense interest. Mrs. Hazlitt hurried on: "I feel I must apologize for my silly child--so vulgar and absurd, though I suppose girls must think they're in love--not that I mean it's absurd to think--I mean in your case it's natural enough--your last play--so romantic, dear Mr. Valentine--only, would you mind telling me just how it was you brought my daughter home a week ago Friday?" Valentine emerged from this like a dog from the surf, successive waves had passed over him without his having had any idea what it meant. "I don't think I have the pleasure of knowing your daughter," he said. "Ah, not by name!" She was ready for him there. She rose, and taking a silver-framed photograph from the table she thrust it into his hands. He studied it and said politely, "What a charming little face! How like you, if I may say so!" "Don't you recognize it? Hasn't she sent it to you? Hasn't she written you letters?" "Possibly," said Valentine, and he added apologetically, "You know, I can't read all my letters. The telegrams I do try to manage, although--" Mrs. Hazlitt could not pretend to be interested in how Valentine managed his telegrams. "You mean you didn't bring Lita home last Friday--a week ago?" she said, and her eyes began to get large. Valentine leaned back and looked at the ceiling, stamped one foot slightly on the floor and crossed the other leg over it. This seemed to help him think, for almost immediately he said: "We were putting in our new villain"; and when he saw that Mrs. Hazlitt did not grasp the information, he added, "We were rehearsing all that afternoon."