“What?”

“The most natural thing in the world—­my admiration for the art only served to increase my early interest in the artist.  I began to feel drawn not only to the actress but to the woman,” he said gravely.

Her eyes never faltered, but faced him bravely, although her cheeks were like poppies, and her lips faltered in their first bold effort at swift reply.

“I am so glad you honestly think that about my work; so glad you told me.  It is a wonderful encouragement, for I know now that you speak as a man of education, of cultivation.  You must have seen the highest class of stage interpretation, and, I am sure, have no desire merely to flatter me.  You do not speak as if you meant an idle compliment.  Oh, you can scarcely conceive how much success will spell to me, Mr. Winston,” her voice growing deeper from increasing earnestness, her eyes more thoughtful, “but I am going to tell you a portion of my life-story in order that you may partially comprehend.  This is my first professional engagement; but I was no stage-struck girl when I first applied for the position.  Rather, the thought was most repugnant to me.  My earlier life had been passed under conditions which held me quite aloof from anything of the kind.  While I always enjoyed interpreting character as a relaxation, and even achieved, while at school in the East, a rather enviable reputation as an amateur, I nevertheless had a distinct prejudice against the professional stage, even while intensely admiring its higher exponents.  My turning to it for a livelihood was a grim necessity, my first week on the road a continual horror.  I abhorred the play, the making of a nightly spectacle of myself, the rudeness and freedom of the audiences, the coarse, common-place people with whom I was constantly compelled to consort.  You know them, and can therefore realize to some extent what daily association with them must necessarily mean to one of my early training and familiarity with quieter social customs.  But my position in the troupe afforded me certain privileges of isolation, while my necessities compelled me to persevere.  As a result, the dormant art-spirit within apparently came to life; ambition began to usurp the place of indifference; I became more and more disgusted with mediocrity, and began an earnest struggle toward higher achievements.  I had little to guide me other than my own natural instincts, yet I persevered.  I insisted on living my own life while off the stage, and, to kill unhappy thought, I devoted all my spare moments to hard study.  Almost to my surprise, the very effort brought with it happiness.  I began to forget the past and its crudities, to blot out the present with its dull, unpleasant realities, and to live for the future.  My ideals, at first but vague dreams, took form and substance.  I determined to succeed, to master my art, to develop whatever of talent I might possess to its highest possibility, to become an actress worthy of the name.  This developing ideal has already made me a new woman—­it has given me something to live for, to strive toward.”