I am a thing to be used. Then she sat watching the play, sometimes offering a helpful suggestion, sometimes letting her attention wander to the smoothly shining arms she had folded across her knees just below the edge of the table. You are not playing to-night, are you?” “Not to-night,” she answered. F. ‘Is that a gesture of friendship?’ She stamped her foot. He whispered in her ear. The novel danger of the situation enthralled him. But in its stead—toward morning—there appeared another idea which appealed to him as sublime, appealed to the primitive conscience, to his artistic sense of the drama, to the poet and the novelist in him.
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