He wheeled suddenly, surprised her eyes upon him.He burst out laughing, and she felt that he had read her thoughts.
However, he merely said:
"Have you anything to suggest--about Spenser?""I can't even tell him of your offer now.He's very ill--and sensitive about you.""About me? How ridiculous! I'm always coming across men Idon't know who are full of venom toward me.I suppose he thinks I crowded him.No matter.You're sure you're not fancying yourself in love with him?""No, I am not in love with him.He has changed--and so have I."He smiled at her."Especially in the last hour?" he suggested.
"I had changed before that.I had been changing right along.
But I didn't realize it fully until you talked with me--no, until after you gave me your card this morning.""You saw a chance--a hope--eh?"
She nodded.
"And at once became all nerves and courage....As to Spenser--I'll have some play carpenter sent to collaborate with him and set him up in the play business.You know it's a business as well as an art.And the chromos sell better than the oil paintings--except the finest ones.It's my chromos that have earned me the means and the leisure to try oils.""He'd never consent.He's very proud."
"Vain, you mean.Pride will consent to anything as a means to an end.It's vanity that's squeamish and haughty.He needn't know.""But I couldn't discuss any change with him until he's much better.""I'll send the play carpenter to him--get Fitzalan to send one of his carpenters." Brent smiled."You don't think _he_'ll hang back because of the compact, do you?"Susan flushed painfully."No," she admitted in a low voice.
Brent was still smiling at her, and the smile was cynical.
But his tone soothed where his words would have wounded, as he went on: "A man of his sort--an average, `there-are-two-kinds-of-women, good-and-bad' sort of man--has but one use for a woman of your sort.""I know that," said Susan.
"Do you mind it?"
"Not much.I'd not mind it at all if I felt that I was somebody."Brent put his hand on her shoulder."You'll do, Miss Lenox,"he said with quiet heartiness."You may not be so big a somebody as you and I would like.But you'll count as one, all right."She looked at him with intense appeal in her eyes."Why?" she said earnestly." _Why_ do you do this?"He smiled gravely down at her--as gravely as Brent could smile--with the quizzical suggestion never absent from his handsome face, so full of life and intelligence."I've been observing your uneasiness," said he."Now listen.It would be impossible for you to judge me, to understand me.You are young and as yet small.I am forty, and have lived twenty-five of my forty years intensely.So, don't fall into the error of shallow people and size me up by your own foolish little standards.Do you see what I mean?"Susan's candid face revealed her guilt."Yes," said she, rather humbly.
"I see you do understand," said he."And that's a good sign.
Most people, hearing what I said, would have disregarded it as merely my vanity, would have gone on with their silly judging, would have set me down as a conceited ass who by some accident had got a reputation.But to proceed--I have not chosen you on impulse.Long and patient study has made me able to judge character by the face, as a horse dealer can judge horses by looking at them.I don't need to read every line of a book to know whether it's wise or foolish, worth while or not.Idon't need to know a human being for years or for hours or for minutes even, before I can measure certain things.I measured you.It's like astronomy.An astronomer wants to get the orbit of a star.He takes its position twice--and from the two observations he can calculate the orbit to the inch.I've got three observations of your orbit.Enough--and to spare.""I shan't misunderstand again," said Susan.
"One thing more," insisted Brent."In our relations, we are to be not man and woman, but master and pupil.I shan't waste your time with any--other matters."It was Susan's turn to laugh."That's your polite way of warning me not to waste any of your time with--other matters.""Precisely," conceded he."A man in my position--a man in any sort of position, for that matter--is much annoyed by women trying to use their sex with him.I wished to make it clear at the outset that----""That I could gain nothing by neglecting the trade of actress for the trade of woman," interrupted Susan."I understand perfectly."He put out his hand."I see that at least we'll get on together.I'll have Fitzalan send the carpenter to your friend at once.""Today!" exclaimed Susan, in surprise and delight.
"Why not?" He arranged paper and pen."Sit here and write Spenser's address, and your own.Your salary begins with today.I'll have my secretary mail you a check.And as soon as I can see you again, I'll send you a telegram.
Meanwhile--" He rummaged among a lot of paper bound plays on the table "Here's `Cavalleria Rusticana.' Read it with a view to yourself as either _Santuzzao_ or _Lola_.Study her first entrance--what you would do with it.Don't be frightened.Iexpect nothing from you--nothing whatever.I'm glad you know nothing about acting.You'll have the less to unlearn."They had been moving towards the elevator.He shook hands again and, after adjusting the mechanism for the descent, closed the door.As it was closing she saw in his expression that his mind had already dismissed her for some one of the many other matters that crowded his life.
