thought followed:  “Why not try?” I came out of the stalls the proverbial stage-struck youth.  I was sitting in the same place another night when the young man next to me entered into conversation.  By a strange coincidence he knew a few young men, amateurs, who were going to form a company, give up their situations and travel, if they could induce a few more to join them and put a little money in.  I made an appointment for the following evening....

There were lots of meetings in bedrooms and rehearsals between the beds, but ultimately I was told a school-room had been engaged and a professional actress, A.F.  I went to the school-room and found all the boys there, and a young woman with a pale, rice-powder complexion.  On introduction she gazed at me as if struck dumb.  If she had been better-looking (I thought her vulgar and puffy) I would have been flattered.  I was disappointed, but rather frightened (she had a stage presence) of her professional ability, especially when we commenced to rehearse.  I had to make love to her, too, which embarrassed me.  She had a good profile, I noticed, and would have been better looking, I thought, if she were in better condition, for she was young, about my own age, twenty-three or four.  We were all young—­enjoyed our rehearsals, and had lots of fun—­but I did not respond to the advances A. was evidently making to me.  Finally we started on our tour.  As the weeks went on A.F., like the others, improved wonderfully in health and appearance.  If we had had anything like houses it would have been a pleasant trip.  My strangeness did not escape the notice of the boys altogether, for I was still a bit strange in mind and nerves—­and deeply religious, bowing my head before each meal and reading my little Bible and prayer-book at odd times.  I drank no alcohol.  I spent a good deal of time by myself of with my faithful companion A., who was nearly always at my side, she and her appealing eyes.  I was surprised to see how quickly she had improved; she looked quite attractive and ladylike some evenings at meals, but I only tolerated her.  I was selfish and conceited.

Things had been going on like this for a week—­always playing to empty houses and our money lower and lower—­when A. said to our other lady, Mrs. T., on a train in my presence:  “I shall have to give him up, I suppose; he will have nothing to do with me.”  Mrs. T. said:  “You give him up, do you?” and looked at me as if she were going to try her hand.  A. said “Yes,” and looked at me, smiling sadly.  I don’t know what motive prompted me—­whether my vanity was alarmed at her threatened desertion or that she had really made some impression on me by her love, probably a little of both—­but I said:  “No, don’t; come and sit down here,” making way for her, and she joyfully came and nestled against me.  From that time I ceased to treat her with ridicule, and kissed her at other times than when on the stage.  I was subject still