“You know her better, perhaps, as Eunice Terry?”
“Miss Terry? Dear me! Really! So you are the young man of whom she spoke. The young man I advised her not to lose sight of.”
“You advised her?”
“Certainly. I sensed that you might prove a valuable sheet-anchor to—well, rather a will-o’-the-wisp little craft. I hope, Mr. Churchill, you have come to carry her away to the hymeneal altar?”
“That’s what I did come for, but, thanks to your teaching, it’s all knocked on the head.”
“My teaching?”
“Yes. Since you taught her to get herself up—talk a lot of silly theatrical shop, and put on stagey ways.”
“My dear young man, those very stagey ways you speak of are none of my teaching. Indeed, but for their existence I might have done something to advance the little lady in her profession. It was their presence dissuaded me and also caused me to advise her not to lose touch with you.”
“What do you mean?”
“There are many young and very foolish girls whom the glamour of the stage attracts—who are in no way suited, nor try to suit themselves, for success upon the boards. Oddly enough, they solace their souls with trumpery talk and silly vanities. They are good enough in themselves, but weak, do you see? Unable to grasp the essentials of a fine picture while hypnotised with the glitter of a cheap gilt frame. With a little care—a little sympathy—a little tact—they can be won away from where they are not wanted to where they are wanted. Now I advise you to talk to this little runaway very gently. Condole with her on the lack of opportunity she has had, but plead your love as a finer and greater outlet for her self-expression. Do this, Mr. Churchill, and upon my word, within a month you’ll be happily house-hunting, with her hand upon your arm.”