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WHEN LOVE FLIES 
 OUT O' THE WINDOW 
 
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WHEN LOVE FLIES 
 OUT O' THE WINDOW 
 
 BY 
 
 LEONARD MERRICK 
 
 author of 
 
 "the actor-managek " ; the worldlings," etc. 
 
 London 
 Arthur Pearson Ltd. 
 Henrietta Street 
 1902 
 
The complete MS, of " When Love Flies out d' the 
 Window^^ was cut by the author with a view to its 
 serial publication. The passages and chapters which 
 were then deleted have been restored^ and the tale i7t 
 its entirety is now printed for the first ti?ne. 
 
WHEN LOVE FLIES 
 OUT O^ THE WINDOW 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 THEN the omnibus left the Royal Oak " 
 
 V V there were seven strangers in it ; one of 
 them was a girl. Because the sun was shining, 
 and she had risen with a little hope in her heart, 
 she wondered where the six others were going, 
 and what their stories were. In the morning, 
 while she was jolted into town expectant, she 
 often scanned the faces of the women opposite, 
 and tried to guess their lives ; in the afternoon, 
 when she returned despairing, she noted nothing 
 but the superiority of their clothes. 
 
 Hers were eloquent. The hat suited her, but 
 it was a white Leghorn, and the month was 
 October ; her gloves were carefully put on — too 
 rare a virtue in woman — but they smelt of ben- 
 zine ; her cheap lace tie was fresh, but pinned 
 
when Love Flies 
 
 to hide the shabbiness of her coat-front, and she 
 had tucked most of her skirt out of sight. 
 
 She was a pale Httle girl, with fair hair, and 
 eyes the colour of forget-me-nots. She looked 
 as if she needed happiness and three good meals 
 every day. When she grew tired of conjecturing 
 the affairs of the glum-faced six, her mind re- 
 verted to her own, and then her lips tightened and 
 anxiety showed in her expression for all to read. 
 The others in the 'bus read nothing, however, ex- 
 cept the advertisements extolling cocoa and soap. 
 
 Her history was quite commonplace. She had 
 a voice, and once singing-masters had taken 
 guineas for training it, and a devoted father 
 had foreseen a brilliant career for her. Not 
 without a struggle had he resigned himself to 
 the idea of her becoming celebrated, but he was 
 a medical man with a moribund practice, and he 
 said, ''As Heaven has given Meenie a fortune 
 in her throat, perhaps it would be wrong of me 
 to stand in her way.'' When he had persuaded 
 himself to accept this view, the singing-masters 
 who accepted the guineas congratulated him on 
 his wise decision. So Meenie studied harder 
 than ever — to win the fortune. And meanwhile 
 the practice died, and the summer after he had 
 sacrificed his life-policy her father died too. 
 
 6 
 
Out o' the Window 
 
 Then Meenie Weston took her voice into the 
 market-place, and the last death to embitter her 
 youth was the death of her illusion. The little 
 money in her possession melted rapidly. The 
 prophecies of the professors ceased with the 
 payment of the fees. She wrote letters to an 
 eminent impresario, and received no answers 
 from him. She pleaded in person for concert 
 engagements, eager very soon to earn a sovereign, 
 and learnt that novices were expected to sing 
 gratis for the advantage of being heard. She 
 volunteered to sing gratis for the advantage of 
 being heard, and was asked to take twenty 
 pounds' worth of tickets — in other words, to 
 pay the manager for putting her on his plat- 
 form. When she explained that she couldn't 
 afford it, the manager, who was renowned for 
 the services he had rendered to musical art 
 in England, said that there were many young 
 singers who could, and turned his back on her. 
 
 With such histories London teems, and many 
 of them have their sequels in the chorus of the 
 comic opera stage. It was into the chorus of 
 comic opera that she drifted at last, nodding her 
 head, and clapping her hands, and tripping to 
 right and left in a scantily dressed crowd for 
 higher wages than she could earn by ruining 
 
 7 
 
when Love Flies 
 
 her health behind a counter. And now, at 
 twenty-two, she expected nothing better. As 
 the omnibus rumbled up Edgware Road she 
 was hoping for another chorus engagement as 
 passionately as she had once hoped to be a 
 prima donna, for she had been trying to obtain 
 one for a long while, and all that remained in 
 her purse, after the conductor collected fares, was 
 sevenpence halfpenny and some pawn tickets. 
 
 She drove as far as twopence entitled her to 
 go, and got out at the corner of Tottenham 
 Court Road and Oxford Street. It was her 
 custom to walk from this point to the Strand, 
 and to call in quest of an opening at the offices 
 of the dramatic agents ; but this morning she 
 was not going direct to the Strand. For once 
 her prospect was a shade brighter. 
 
 She made her way down Charing Cross Road 
 into Shaftesbury Avenue. Here somebody called 
 to her by name, and, turning, she saw a girl who 
 had been on tour with her in the spring. 
 
 ''Oh, Miss Russell ! how are you? Did I pass 
 you ? 
 
 How d ye do, Miss Weston ? Why, I thought 
 you were in America, my dear ! " 
 
 Among the ladies of the chorus ''my dear" 
 does not necessarily imply regard ; they are "my 
 
 8 
 
Out o' the Window 
 
 dear " to one another the moment they are intro- 
 duced : Miss Fitz-Gerald, this is my friend 
 Miss St. George ! " Then Miss St. George and 
 Miss Fitz-Gerald say at the same time : Pleased 
 to meet you, my dear ! " 
 
 Meenie and her acquaintance shook hands out- 
 side a costumier s, and took stock of each other. 
 Miss Russell put the stereotyped question — 
 
 Well, what are you doing now ? Where are 
 you ? " 
 
 Meenie made an unusual answer — 
 Tm not doing anything — I can't find anything 
 to do.'' 
 
 Such unprofessional candour surprised Miss 
 Russell ; she forgot to boast. 
 
 Tm looking for a 'shop' myself," she said. 
 How long have you been ' out ' " 
 
 ''Oh, I've had a long spell of it — months. I 
 suppose you can't tell me of anything, can you?" 
 
 ''Not me ! All the companies are on the road 
 at this time of year ; there won't be a chance now 
 till Christmas. Have you settled for panto ? " 
 
 " ' Pantomime ' ? " The girl who had dreamed 
 of singing Isolde sighed. " I shan't be able to 
 wait till pantomime. I shall be buried before 
 the pantomimes are produced if something doesn't 
 turn up first." 
 
 9 
 
When Love Flies 
 
 ''Thats rough!" returned the other. '^Things 
 are bad with you, are they ? Well, they aren't 
 very gay with me, goodness knows ! I was going 
 to Russia for six weeks, but it fell through/' 
 
 Tm sorry," said Meenie. ''You see, IVe 
 been ill," she added; ''that is why Tm not in 
 the American tour, and couldn't look for anything 
 else until it was too late. I've sometimes wished 
 I hadn't got well again." 
 
 "And what price this one? I've been out 
 with The Lady Barber s Oath since I saw you, 
 and the tour dried up, and they left us to pay 
 our own fares back from Grimsby. How's that.^ 
 Of course the kiddies are with mother, but I've 
 
 got to send a ' P. O.' every week, and " 
 
 She groaned, and put out her hand again. 
 "Well, I wish you better luck, my dear! I 
 must be off; I've got to get to Camberwell." 
 
 Meenie stood wrestling with a strong tempta- 
 tion to be mean. Then she said feebly — " 
 
 " I'll tell you of the only opening I know 
 myself : they're trying voices at the Piccadilly. 
 I heard it at Potter's yesterday — I'm going there 
 now." 
 
 "Well, I'm blessed!" exclaimed Miss Russell; 
 "you are a trump, and no mistake!" She came 
 near to blushing. "To tell you the truth," she 
 
 lO 
 
Out o' the Window 
 
 owned, ''thats where I'm going myself, and 
 I didn't mean to lose a chance by giving you 
 the hint. Ain't I a cat ? " 
 
 N — no," said Meenie — but the confession 
 hurt her — you aren't a cat ; you're a soprano, 
 and so am I. Let us hope there will be room 
 for both of us. / nearly held my tongue about 
 it too." 
 
 They proceeded towards the Piccadilly Theatre 
 together, and entered the stage door. The 
 functions of a stage doorkeeper, so far as they 
 are to be ascertained by observation, consist of 
 eating his meals in a violent draught, and adding 
 by every means in his power to the aspirant's 
 difficulties. In the present case, how^ever, the 
 chorus ladies had no need to buy civility with 
 a shilling, nor to wait while their names were 
 taken in. The announcement that the agent 
 had sent them down served as ''Open Sesame," 
 and they were suffered to pass into a passage 
 which led to the stage. 
 
 At the sight of it they glanced at each other 
 in dismay. One would have imagined that half 
 the chorus girls in London were congregated 
 here, and everyone was holding a dilapidated 
 copy of a ballad that had been her test song 
 for years. A noticeable peculiarity of all the 
 
 II 
 
when Love Flies 
 
 copies was the form in which they had been 
 folded : chorus ladies always secrete their songs 
 in their pockets on their way to have their voices 
 tried, because every applicant for an engagement 
 desires it to be believed that she is too well 
 known for any trial to be necessary. 
 
 As the new-comers merged into the crowd, 
 several threw them despondent greetings. After 
 the sunshine outside it was dark in the theatre, 
 for the only illumination came from the T-piece, 
 and it was a few seconds before they began to 
 distinguish the features of those who nodded 
 to them. At a piano an elderly woman in a 
 black dress was playing an accompaniment. In 
 the stalls a posse of important gentlemen, who 
 were supposed to be listening, smoked cigars, 
 and exchanged remarks in not very subdued 
 tones. When the girl who was endeavouring 
 to make herself heard had sung the first verse, 
 one of them got up, and said brusquely — 
 
 ''Thank you, my dear. You can leave your 
 name and address. Next, please ! " 
 
 ''Skes out of it!" remarked Miss Russell in 
 a cheerful whisper, and the girl pocketed her 
 tattered music with evident discomfiture. ''You 
 can leave your name and address is the doom 
 evasive. 
 
 12 
 
Out o' the Window 
 
 Another girl was called down to the piano. 
 She inquired nervously if the lady in black 
 knew ''She Often Dreamed of Happier Days." 
 The lady in black didn't. It is characteristic 
 of the chorus mistress never to know the 
 accompaniment of the song which the applicant 
 particularly wishes to sing. The girl began 
 Nobody s Darling but Mine" instead, and 
 just as she was approaching her favourite note 
 the stout gentleman who had spoken before 
 stopped her with — 
 
 *^ Yes, my dear. Thank you." 
 
 At this the girl turned paler than she had been 
 when she commenced, and retired in confusion. 
 " Yes, my dear. Thank you " is the doom direct. 
 
 The crowd came down to the piano one by one. 
 Some left it jauntily, some withdrew abashed. 
 After she had been standing about the stage for 
 two hours, Meenie seized an opportunity to 
 address the stout gentleman. 
 
 ''Oh, please will you hear me?" she said. 
 " Do hear me ! Mr. Potter sent me down." 
 
 " What s your voice ? he asked. 
 
 "Soprano, Mr. Jenkinson." 
 
 ^'Soprano?" he said shrilly. "Good Lord, 
 we're overdone with sopranos ! No use, my 
 dear. Very sorry, very sorry, but we only want 
 
 13 
 
when Love Flies Out o' the Window 
 
 contraltos now." He put up his arms and 
 shouted, No more sopranos wanted, ladies ! 
 Sopranos needn't wait ! " 
 
 A loud chattering arose, and soprani — pretty, 
 plain, tall, short, clumsy, graceful, dowdy, and 
 smartly-dressed flocked through the wings with 
 resentful faces. Meenie stood where he had left 
 her, swallowing a lump in her throat. She felt 
 that her last chance had gone, and she was 
 hopeless. After a moment she looked round for 
 Miss Russell, but Miss Russell had gone too. 
 
 14 
 
CHAPTER II 
 
 IT was one o clock, so the little girl betook 
 herself forlornly to a dairy, where a glass 
 of milk and a scone served her for dinner. She 
 would have preferred a bun, but a scone is more 
 filling, and the same price. 
 
 She sat in the milk shop wondering what she 
 could find to pawn on the morrow. Her father's 
 watch and chain, and the locket that had been 
 her mothers were pledged already. Perhaps 
 she could obtain a few shillings on a white silk 
 frock, which was a relic of the days when she 
 used to go to parties. There was certainly 
 nothing else. She decided to run out with it 
 when she was sure the landlady was in the 
 basement. So far her landlady had not suspected 
 the lodger s visits to the pawnbrokers, or she 
 would have given her notice, forestalling a 
 petition to wait for the rent. 
 
 When the scone was eaten and she had 
 finished the milk, Meenie went out into the 
 street again. There was nothing for her now 
 but her daily routine, and she trudged to the 
 
 15 
 
when Love Flies 
 
 Strand. She must go to Potter s. She wanted 
 to tell him that she couldn't get in at the 
 Piccadilly, and to implore him to find her some- 
 thing else. But Potter's was always besieged — 
 Potters this afternoon would be thronged — she 
 would be amazingly lucky if she contrived to 
 speak to him. 
 
 The location of Mr. Potters dramatic agency 
 was as well known to theatrical folk as the 
 whereabouts of Trafalgar Square ; his name 
 and the description of his business in the door- 
 way were merely a concession to custom — a 
 faded superfluity. As Meenie neared the end 
 of her walk an experienced eye showed her 
 several strangers bound for Potter s : she could 
 tell their calling by their carriage and their 
 costumes; and the neighbourhood that they were 
 in left little doubt as to their destination. 
 
 She mounted a stone staircase as high as she 
 could go, and then paused patiently. Over the 
 heads of the actors and actresses avid of engage- 
 ments she could read a printed notice to the effect 
 that ladies and gentlemen were requested not to 
 block the landing. Nobody else appeared to 
 have noticed it, however. On the stage of the 
 Piccadilly Theatre the crowd had been composed 
 solely of choristers ; here on the staircase of the 
 
 i6 
 
Out o' the Window 
 
 agent, chorus girls rubbed elbows with the 
 heroines of melodramas — lovers, villains, in- 
 gdnues, and Irish comedians were thrown together 
 indiscriminately. Provincial actresses compared 
 notes of their successes — on both sides edited 
 for publication. Men attired in their best suits 
 boasted to women having every natural — and 
 many an unnatural — shade of hair. In the hum 
 > of voices such falsehoods as Seven pounds a 
 week, my dear, but that wasn't good enough 
 for me^' could be caught continually. When a 
 glimpse was obtainable, through the mob, of the 
 earlier arrivals who had secured seats in the 
 waiting-room, girls could be seen devouring 
 sandwiches — clients who had come resigned to 
 spend the day here, and carried their luncheons 
 (with their powder-puffs) in their satchels. 
 
 The waiting-room, when she reached it at last, 
 contained many accustomed figures. There were 
 the girls who were able to keep up appearances, 
 and to call in different hats each time ; her own 
 was always the same. There were girls who, 
 like herself, came every day, and had learnt one 
 another's clothes by heart. Every day they sat 
 here — and always with a fainter hope ; every day 
 they went away desponding — each to the trouble 
 that the others didn't know. 
 
 B 
 
 17 
 
when Love Flies 
 
 She stood by the mantelpiece and stared at the 
 great photographs of triumphant women that 
 decorated the walls. How she had grown to hate 
 them ! The smiling favourites of the West End 
 seemed to mock her. Sometimes she could have 
 dashed her fist against the glass that preserved a 
 picture, as she waited, hour after hour with aching 
 feet, under a portrait that simpered, ceaselessly 
 simpered, in her face. 
 
 A superior person who drew a salary every 
 week in the year rattled without respite at 
 her typing-machine. Meenie contemplated her 
 jealously. A youth of important bearing sat at 
 a table making entries in an account-book. He 
 also had regular employment, and she envied him 
 as well. The door of the private office opened, 
 and Mr. Potter came out, and crossed briskly to 
 his partner's. The sensation was intense. A 
 dozen men and women sprang towards him 
 clamouring; in pitiable eagerness one girl caught 
 at his coat-tails. 
 
 ''Can't see any of you now," he said; and 
 vanished. A Brobdignagian sigh seemed to 
 be heaved in the room. Meenie dropped back 
 to the fireplace drearily. For a minute nobody 
 spoke. The relentless racket of the typing- 
 machine was the only sound. 
 
 i8 
 
Out o' the Window 
 
 You look tired, my dear ! Sit down here, if 
 you like — I can squeeze up/' 
 
 She turned her head, and saw that the speaker 
 was a young woman whom she had not noticed 
 before. 
 
 ''Thanks/' she murmured, ''I should be very 
 glad to." 
 
 It s tiring work ! " 
 
 ''Very," she said. " How long have you been 
 here ? " 
 
 " Four hours ! And I don't want an engage- 
 ment — Fm only waiting to tell him that I can t 
 take one." 
 
 "You're lucky!" 
 
 "Well, I suppose I am. You see, I've half 
 settled with him to join TAe Best of All Girls, 
 and this morning I got a much better offer on 
 my own. That's just how things happen, isn't 
 it ! I came here as early as I could — I must tell 
 him how I stand at once." 
 
 "In The Best of All Girls said Meenie. "Is 
 it for chorus? If you don't want it, there might 
 be a chance for me — I am trying for a chorus 
 'shop.'" Her vocabulary included a few of the 
 slang terms of her profession by this time. She 
 had acquired them inevitably, although she had 
 begun by shuddering at them. 
 
 19 
 
When Love Flies 
 
 *'Oh no, my dear," answered the other, *^ it 
 isn't for chorus ; it s a part. It wouldn't suit you 
 a bit, Tm sure. They want a big girl with a figure 
 like mine. Somebody who can talk to the band." 
 
 The sense of the last words was lost on Meenie, 
 though she was not sufficiently interested to ask 
 what theiy meant. They referred to one of the 
 alleged humours of musical comedy. It is, in 
 these productions, occasionally the duty of the 
 orchestra to pretend to confuse a vocalist by the 
 iteration of a bar that sounds like oom-tarara. 
 The young lady stops them, saying, ''Thank 
 you ; Tve had quite enough of your impudence ! " 
 Then, in a tone of portentous warning, she adds, 
 Tiddley push ! " And the audience yells. The 
 expression was esoteric ; the girl showed that her 
 education had not extended so far as that. 
 
 ''YouVe new in the business, aren't you?" 
 said the woman. ''What have you done?" 
 
 "I've been on tour — only the chorus. That's 
 all I'm looking for now; I don't expect to get 
 anything better — I'm not good enough." 
 
 "Oh, never say die! You've got a good 
 appearance, anyhow, and that's half the battle. 
 Why don't you take a few lessons ? Haven't you 
 got any people who can afford to pay for some 
 for you ? " 
 
 20 
 
Out o' the Window 
 
 My people did pay for some," said Meenie in 
 low tones. ''They are dead/' 
 
 There was a little pause. The machine clat- 
 tered furiously, and a girl with a voice of brass 
 could be heard saying, " She can call herself 
 'Principal Boy' till shes blue, but Tm engaged 
 to play Dandini ! Which part gets the most 
 money in Cinderella ? " 
 
 " It s a bad job when you've got no luck, and 
 no oof, and you're all alone," continued the 
 woman. " Are you all alone ? Lor' ! I know 
 what it is, my dear — no need to tell me — you can 
 jolly well starve between the 'shops,' that's what 
 you can do ! " She hesitated for a second. " Do 
 you think you could take anything better than 
 chorus if you got the chance ? " she inquired. 
 
 "Why?" said Meenie, with a little stirring at 
 the heart. " Do you mean that I might do for 
 The Best of All Girls, after all " 
 
 " No. I tell you you aren't tall enough for 
 that. But they're making engagements for the 
 show that / want to join. If I'd heard you, I'd 
 speak for you to-morrow. Anyhow, there's a tip 
 for you, if you like to try." 
 
 " Like to try ? " Meenie smiled. " I'm ever so 
 glad to hear of it ! What company is it ? What's 
 the part?" 
 
 21 
 
When Love Flies 
 
 It isn't a part ; it's a concert engagement for 
 Paris. They want two or three people to sing 
 in English. It's only a small hall — I daresay 
 you'd be quite strong enough. I was at the 
 agent's this morning, so I know they aren't 
 complete yet. If Potter hasn't got anything for 
 you, I'd go round the first thing in the morning, 
 if I were you." 
 
 I'll go now," exclaimed Meenie, rising ; ''they 
 may have settled with everybody by to-morrow. 
 Where's the office ? Is it near ? " 
 
 Yes, only a minute. Look here ; I won't 
 wait any longer myself We'll go together, and 
 I'll send Potter a wire. I do hope something 
 will come of it. You looked such a heap of 
 misery when you were standing there — that was 
 how I came to speak to you." 
 
 And I felt miserable, I can tell you! ... I don't 
 know your name. Mine is Meenie Weston." 
 
 ''Mine's Nelly Joyce. Now don't blame me 
 if it's a frost — it depends on what your voice is 
 like. Come on ! " 
 
 Meenie nodded, and hurried down the stairs 
 much more cheerfully than she had ascended 
 them. In Bedford Street the lio^hts of the 
 Bodega" were inviting, and Miss Joyce pro- 
 posed that they should ''drink luck" to the 
 
 22 
 
Out o' the Window 
 
 undertaking, and have ''a glass of port wine." 
 The girl had been in the chorus too long to be 
 startled by the suggestion, and though she was 
 fearful of losing the prospective salary by delay, 
 she recognised the worldly wisdom of the advice. 
 
 Why, you little white thing," said her com- 
 panion, ''you look a sight too much as if you 
 wanted a 'shop/ That isn't the way to get one. 
 A glass of wine will perk you up, and your voice 
 will sound twice as well. What are you going 
 to sing ? " 
 
 " IVe a song in my pocket," said Meenie. " I 
 was trying to get in at the Piccadilly before 
 I went to Potters." 
 
 They sat against two barrels, labelled '^ Pale 
 Dry" and " Rich Old." The port, and the faint, 
 lurking odour of the place, soothed her nerves ; 
 the flower-pots in pink paper, and the blonde 
 head of the barmaid behind the ferns had a 
 festive air. The atmosphere was scarcely less 
 theatrical than that of the office they had left. 
 Actors lounged and chatted all round the bar ; 
 and some ladies and gentlemen of the chorus, 
 who came in, helped themselves plentifully to 
 the biscuits and cheese, and departed without 
 spending a copper, their manoeuvres unnoticed 
 in the crowd. 
 
 23 
 
When Love Flies 
 
 The agency, as Miss Joyce had said, was 
 close by. It was smaller than Potters — one of 
 the struggling ventures which are constantly 
 springing up in the streets off the Strand, 
 generally to enjoy a short term of life. *'The 
 Continental Operatic and Dramatic Agency " 
 was painted in white letters on a black board, 
 between a hairdresser s and a florist s, and on 
 the first floor the name met the girl's eyes again. 
 
 The outer office here was bare ; the photo- 
 graphs displayed were chiefly faded cabinets, 
 and the walls were adorned merely by a few 
 playbills. At Miss Joyce's request, a boy went 
 to ascertain if Mr. Hughes was disengaged, and 
 after about ten minutes the pair were admitted to 
 a cosily furnished room, containing the inevitable 
 piano and more likenesses of young ladies in 
 tights. 
 
 The agent cultivated a certain professional air 
 himself, although he made his living by the per- 
 formances of others. His fat face was clean- 
 shaven, and the profuse black hair that he had 
 grown was combed off* his forehead without any 
 parting. When they entered, he was at a writing- 
 table littered with letters and the evening papers. 
 Meenie thought he looked in a very bad temper. 
 He did not ask them to sit down, but inquired 
 
 24 
 
Out o' the Window 
 
 curtly of Miss Joyce what she wanted, cutting 
 her polite greeting short. 
 
 I advised my friend to come and see you about 
 the concert engagements," she answered. She 
 would like to go too, if there's anything open." 
 
 I think we re full up," he said. What about 
 yourself — are you free or not ? I must know for 
 certain to-morrow morning." 
 
 ril let you know by eleven o'clock, Mr. 
 Hughes." 
 
 He turned to Meenie, surveying her from her 
 fringe to her feet. 
 
 *'What experience have you had?" 
 I have been in Mr. Blandford's companies on 
 tour," she replied. ''He was going to send me 
 to America with TAe Fair Fakir, but I fell ill, 
 and couldn't go." 
 
 ''What parts?" 
 
 "Only chorus. But will you hear me? I 
 have a song with me." 
 
 " Go on, then," he said ; and she went to the 
 piano, and began her own accompaniment. 
 
 She sang Lassen's "Allerseelen," giving the 
 English words. Her voice was sweet, and she 
 sang with feeling. "In Death's dark valley this 
 is Holy Day." The agent blew his cigar smoke 
 among the photographs musingly ; the gloom on 
 
 25 
 
When Love Flies 
 
 his face lightened a little, and he did not inter- 
 rupt her. When she finished, Miss Joyce threw 
 her an encouraging nod. 
 
 ''All right,'' he said. It's a three months' 
 engagement ; the terms are fifty francs a week. 
 Will that suit you ? I can't do any better." 
 
 ''Yes," she answered, trembling with joy, 
 "that will do. You pay the fare both ways, of 
 course ? " 
 
 "Yes, we pay fares. Are you free to go to- 
 morrow ? " 
 
 " I could go to-morrow, certainly. " But " 
 
 She hesitated. " IVe been 'out' a long time, 
 and " 
 
 "You can have a pound on account of the first 
 week's salary — that'll cover your 'exes,' and carry 
 you on." He made some insertions in a contract, 
 and when she had signed it he gave her the 
 sovereign. "Be at Victoria at half-past eight 
 to-morrow evening, outside the telegraph office. 
 I'll meet you with your ticket. That's all, my 
 dear. Good afternoon." 
 
 He jerked his head towards them both, and 
 the interview was concluded. 
 
 " Well, you're in luck," exclaimed Miss Joyce, 
 as they went down ; " that was soon managed, 
 wasn't it ? You've a nice little voice of your 
 
 26 
 
Out o' the Window 
 
 own, too, my dear ! I knew he would settle with 
 you as soon as you opened your mouth." 
 
 Meenie regarded her gratefully ; they sauntered 
 on a few yards together in the dusk. 
 
 I can't tell you how much obliged to you I 
 am," she said, squeezing her arm. I do hope 
 you will get out of the Best of All tour, then 
 we can go together. Which way are you going 
 now ? Fm going up Endell Street ; I take a 
 'bus from Tottenham Court Road." 
 
 This, however, was not the other's route, and 
 when she had declined an invitation to tea at the 
 Mocha they separated. In the last half-hour the 
 whole aspect of the city had changed to the girl, 
 and London hummed gaily in her ears. To the 
 thousands who gain a hand-to-mouth existence 
 by the stage an engagement for three months 
 brings a sense of security which nobody used 
 to regular employment can comprehend. Her 
 troubles had already faded in her mind. She 
 neither looked back nor strove to see further 
 ahead. The contract was all-sufficing. A strug- 
 gling governess she passed felt a pang of bitter- 
 ness as the little girl who smiled so happily hurried 
 by ; yet even the wretched governess, had she 
 known her circumstances, would have shuddered 
 in contemplating so precarious a mode of life. 
 
 27 
 
When Love Flies Out o' the Window 
 
 When Meenie had parted from her, Miss Joyce 
 retraced her steps and entered the private office 
 of the agent again — this time with less ceremony. 
 
 ''Well," she said, ''what do you think of her, 
 eh?" 
 
 " She s pretty," said the man. "Where did 
 you pick her up ? There won't be many more to 
 be got, I can tell you — the damn Press is publish- 
 ing a warning ! Girls are 'earnestly warned ' not 
 to sign engagements for the Continent without 
 writing to the British Consul first. There you 
 are ! " He caught up the Star, and dabbed his 
 finger on a paragraph," 'Dangers to English girls 
 on the Continent ! ' And it s in the Westminster 
 and the Globe, and half a dozen of 'em. It'll be 
 all over the Strand by to-morrow ! " 
 
 She leant on the table and read the lines that 
 he pointed out to her. 
 
 "That's the straight tip, isn't it?" she mur- 
 mured. " But, lor, how many of the girls it's 
 written for ever see a newspaper ? " 
 
 "One tells another, Nell ; it gets about !" 
 
 " There'll always be plenty who are too hard 
 up to be careful," she said. " You've got this 
 one anyhow. And she has no people and no 
 friends, so there'll be nobody to make a fuss." 
 
 38 
 
CHAPTER III 
 
 THE young woman was not mistaken in her 
 views. When she declared that few of 
 those to whom it was directed would profit by 
 the caution, she was familiar with her subject ; 
 she understood that the Press was endeavouring 
 to instil prudence into a class whose stupidity, 
 coupled with their circumstances, made protection 
 a difficult matter. Not only would many of them 
 learn nothing by the warning, but they were 
 ignorant what a British Consul was. They had 
 never heard of a British Consul. For all they 
 knew, ''The British Consul" might be the name 
 of a public-house. She spoke out of the depths 
 of experience, for she had been in the rank and 
 file of the theatres herself, and even now she 
 seldom read anything but the advertisement 
 sheets of the Era, and novelettes. 
 
 That the tale she had recited was purely 
 imaginary need hardly be said — she had neither 
 an offer from The Best of All Girls Company, nor 
 any intention of proceeding to Paris. Having 
 cast in her lot with Mr. Hughes, she had tem- 
 porarily retired from the boards, and served him 
 by touting for a business which had every pros- 
 
 29 
 
when Love Flies 
 
 pect of being exposed in the police-court. More 
 businesses in London than millions of Londoners 
 suspect are touted for by women. Money-lenders 
 frequently find them useful, though they require 
 them to be better dressed and better looking than 
 Nelly Joyce. 
 
 Meenie, when she could afford to buy one, did 
 read a paper; it was a habit of her non-profes- 
 sional days which she retained. In the life of 
 every girl fighting to support herself, however, 
 there not unnaturally come times when the affairs 
 of the world possess as little interest for her as 
 the affairs of the struggling girl possess for the 
 world. The problem which engrosses her is how 
 to keep out of the workhouse. The death of a 
 monarch or the defeat of a nation is trivial. 
 The crisis is the landlady's bill. 
 
 As her excitement subsided a little, Meenie 
 was stirred by a sudden anxiety about her toilette. 
 She had not thought of it immediately, because 
 she was accustomed to have her costumes pro- 
 vided by the management ; now it occurred to 
 her w^ith dismay that in a concert-engagement 
 she would be expected to find her own dress. 
 
 The only evening frock she could boast was 
 the one of doubtful white silk that she had pro- 
 posed to pawn. When she reached her lodging, 
 
 30 
 
Out o' the Window 
 
 she took it out of her box and examined it ruefully. 
 She determined to smarten it as well as she could 
 with some fresh ribbon and a few yards of lace. 
 
 Next morning, directly she had had some tea 
 and bread-and-butter, she went to Westbourne 
 Grove to make her purchases. When the frock 
 was finished, she looked through her music, and 
 decided what songs she would sing. Then she 
 packed everything — it didn't take long — and had 
 dinner. Brave with the consciousness of money 
 in her pocket, she had ordered a chop. 
 
 When she arrived at Victoria, neither Miss 
 Joyce nor Mr. Hughes was there, and she waited 
 by the telegraph office impatiently. The agent 
 appeared at twenty minutes to nine, and gave 
 her a few directions. Replying to her, he said 
 that Miss Joyce had found it impossible to cancel 
 the engagement she had made for the provinces. 
 He had brought the ticket, and lest the girls 
 views had altered, and she should try to sell 
 it, he waited to see her depart. 
 
 ''You had better drive straight to this address 
 for your rooms," he said, producing a card that 
 he had written on. The girls always stay there. 
 It s very comfortable and near the hall." 
 
 " Will the people be up when I get in ? What 
 time shall I be in Paris ? " 
 
 31 
 
When Love Flies 
 
 ''A quarter-past seven. If you have a cup 
 of coffee at the station, you won't be at the 
 house much before eight. You can get French 
 money on the platform at Newhaven if you 
 want to. Oh, you d better change to second 
 class on the boat — here's the difference. So 
 long! You're off!" 
 
 He favoured her with another jerk of the 
 head and lounged away, and she put the card 
 and the silver in her purse. 
 
 The journey was a cold one, but the novelty 
 of it kept her amused at first. She had never 
 had dealings at a money-exchange ; and though 
 she accepted the few strange coins with mis- 
 giving, to hold them gave her a sensation of 
 adventure. She had never crossed the Channel ; 
 and to make one of the chilly crowd who filed 
 over the gangway into the dipping boat seemed 
 more adventurous still. Even the discomfort of 
 the passage did not dispirit her much. She 
 lay among the huddled women, who alternately 
 moaned and gurgled, rejoicing that she wasn't 
 seasick too. The motion of the boat was un- 
 pleasant, and she could not sleep, but though 
 she shivered from time to time, she was not 
 actually dreary until Dieppe was reached. 
 
 She was just losing consciousness when the 
 
 32 
 
Out o' the Window 
 
 voices and the bustle apprised her that they were 
 there. She clambered down, blinking at the 
 lights, and joined the posse who pressed forward 
 on the deck. The knowledge that this was 
 France, which she had always been eager to 
 see, could not prevent her teeth chattering in 
 the custom-house. The buffet lured her to its 
 warmth, but it was besieged ; the waiter was 
 too busy to observe her nervous signals, and she 
 lacked the courage to be peremptory in a foreign 
 language. Dieppe was black as they steamed 
 slowly beside its shuttered cafes ; she yawned at 
 it dismally. When she reopened her eyes she 
 was in Rouen. 
 
 Twenty minutes past five. She stretched her- 
 self a little. The lamps of the bookstall blazed 
 brilliantly ; the yellow covers of the novels, and 
 the illustrated papers had an air of gaiety at 
 twenty minutes past five. How funny to find 
 a bookstall open at this time ! French shouts 
 on the platform ; the train puffed on ; her fellow- 
 passengers disposed themselves anew for slumber. 
 She stared through the window while the land- 
 scape lightened. Sombre trees against a pallid 
 sky ; a river — could it be the Seine ? — silver in the 
 dawn ; the flare of a forge. The engine panted 
 peacefully. Where were they ? Everybody was 
 c 33 
 
When Love Flies 
 
 standing up and collecting bundles and bags. Oh ! 
 she had been asleep again — it was Paris. 
 
 She could say, Pass the salt, if you please,'' 
 in French, and It is the book of my brother," 
 but when she wished to be attended to, she 
 could only utter the word bagage, which she had 
 heard constantly shouted on the quay. For- 
 tunately in France they recognise that inter- 
 preters are desirable at great termini, and it 
 wouldn't be necessary at a station there of equal 
 importance to Waterloo for a German to rush 
 distractedly about the platforms for an hour, seek- 
 ing a traveller who could translate his inquiry. 
 
 After she had drunk the anticipated cup of 
 coffee, which was a great surprise to her — for the 
 perfection of the coffee in France is one of the 
 articles of faith of everybody who hasn't been 
 there — she followed her trunk to a cab. The 
 extent and aspect of the station astonished her ; 
 she had never seen one before that was not 
 depressing. Outside, she showed the card that 
 Mr. Hughes had given her to a porter ; and 
 when she had presented him with two coppers 
 she was rattled away. 
 
 It was a fine morning, and the pulses of the 
 little Bohemian throbbed joyously. As the yokel 
 on the box invited destruction, she could have 
 
 34 
 
Out o' the Window 
 
 sung aloud. The smiling streets, the uniforms 
 of the policemen, and a postman's, the sight of 
 the names over the shops and the advertise- 
 ments on the kiosks delighted her. Presently 
 the pace slackened ; after a few minutes the cab 
 stopped. She waited to ascertain if there was 
 any intention of going on again, and got out. 
 
 The street here smiled less serenely ; the 
 high houses were rather dilapidated. She em- 
 braced as much as possible of the neighbourhood 
 in a glance, and pulled the bell of the door 
 which the driver indicated with his whip. The 
 bells that she had known in England pealed ; 
 the French bell emitted a single deep note, and 
 its performance did more to make her feel abroad 
 than anything that had happened yet. Over- 
 head she saw the words Chambres Garnies 
 painted in dull red capitals. She hoped garnies 
 meant "cheap." 
 
 The woman who confronted her the next 
 moment might have been credited with having 
 run down from her bed but for the fact that she 
 had appeared too quickly. She looked as all 
 Parisiennes of the lower middle-class look until 
 one o'clock in the afternoon : her striped dress- 
 ing-gown was soiled, her hair was tousled, and 
 her face was unwashed. 
 
 35 
 
When Love Flies 
 
 Madame Montjou ? " said Meenie. I have 
 just arrived. I was recommended here for rooms." 
 
 The woman wheezed. 
 I was recommended here for rooms, fdtais 
 
 recomm " She took Mr. Hughes' card out 
 
 again. I want ckambresr 
 
 At this the woman, who was evidently troubled 
 with asthma, became as voluble as her complaint 
 would allow. Her fluency was restrained by 
 nothing but her gasps, and it began to seem 
 as if she would never leave off talking. The 
 unintelligible sentences were interlarded with ques- 
 tions, and when she found they were not under- 
 stood, she had recourse to gesture. The girl 
 nodded in a helpless fashion ; then, resorting to 
 pantomime herself, held out her money and 
 pointed to the cabman. 
 
 ^'I have come from the Gare St. Lazare," she 
 said. 
 
 " Gare St. Lazare," repeated the proprietress ; 
 ouiy ouiy Old — trois francs 
 
 She picked them from the girl's palm and 
 shuffled to the curb, and Meenie could only 
 suspect that the man did not get them all. 
 
 As the cab had been discharged, she assumed 
 that she was going to live here ; and the sup- 
 position was strengthened by the woman beckon- 
 ing to her to go upstairs. 
 
 36 
 
Out o' the Window 
 
 Her conductress wheezed shockingly as they 
 mounted to the first floor. There she turned a 
 handle, and with a flourish displayed a florid bed- 
 room. 
 
 ''How much?" asked Meenie. Combien est-il?'' 
 The woman opened and shut both hands four 
 times. 
 
 Francs ? " screamed Meenie. Forty francs 
 pour le semaine?'' She made violent signs of 
 rejection. 
 
 Tenez ! " said the woman. 
 They ascended to the floor above, the woman 
 gripping her chest. The room shown on this 
 story was a faded edition of the one below. 
 
 Combien est-ilf said Meenie again. 
 The wrinkled hands opened and shut until they 
 signified twenty-five francs. The girl shook her 
 head vehemently. 
 
 Tenez said the woman. 
 They toiled to the third — and to the fourth 
 floor. The woman's breath was now whistling 
 like a high wind, and Meenie counted the move- 
 ments of the dirty hands, palpitating with sus- 
 pense. On the fourth floor it was possible to 
 acquire a room at a weekly rental of twelve 
 francs. She agreed to it by a nod, and intimated 
 that she would like some breakfast. 
 
 Tenez said the woman, and shuffled out. 
 37 
 
CHAPTER IV 
 
 SHE returned presently with a jug of choco- 
 late and some rolls. The tray was a marked 
 improvement on the breakfast trays of Bayswater, 
 and the girls enjoyment of the meal was only 
 damped by her doubt of what it was to cost. 
 Out of the prepaid half of her first week s salary 
 merely a few coppers remained. She reflected, 
 in munching, that she must be very economical. 
 The day was Wednesday, and there would 
 be difficulties on the Wednesday following if 
 her food-bill for the interval exceeded thirteen 
 francs. 
 
 After she had rung for some soap, and waited 
 an hour or more for her brush and comb, the 
 woman's husband brought up the box. He 
 said — 
 
 Monsieur ees ere ; e shall mount ? 
 
 Who is here ? " she asked, relieved to find 
 that somebody had risen now who was partially 
 intelligible. 
 
 Monsieur Le Beau — from ze 'All ; e desire 
 to see mad'moiselle." 
 
 3B 
 
when Love Flies Out o' the Window 
 
 Oh ! " she exclaimed ; Til go down to him." 
 
 In the passage she saw the landlady, and 
 gathered from her thumb that she would find 
 the visitor in the dining-room. The dining-room 
 was meagrely furnished ; the visitor was rotund 
 and middle-aged. His puffy cheeks were quite 
 colourless, and his eyelids hung so low that the 
 eyes themselves were scarcely visible. At the 
 corners of his upper lip a few blonde hairs were 
 waxed into upward spikes. 
 
 You are Meenie Veston, yes ? " he inquired. 
 
 She said she was. I came by last night s 
 boat." 
 
 *'Mr. 'Ughes as writ me. We make a rtkarssl 
 for you at eleven o'clock. You spik French, 
 mees ? " 
 
 No," she said, Vm sorry to say I don t." 
 
 Ah, you learn verra soon ; before you 
 return, you spik it just so good as I spik 
 Eengleesh ! You 'ave nevare before been in 
 Paris, no?" 
 
 No, this is the first time." 
 ''Ah, you like it much ! You come now, zen — 
 zat will be best. You soon be ready, yes.^^ I 
 show ze vay." 
 
 No other manager had ever called on her, and 
 his presence inspired her with an agreeable flutter 
 
 39 
 
When Love Flies 
 
 of importance. She ran upstairs and unpacked 
 her portfolio, and put on her hat and jacket, 
 realising the emotions of a prima donna with 
 an impresario trembling at her frown. 
 
 ''You ave brought photographzV^ f " he asked, 
 as they made their way up the street ; nice 
 photogmphies of you in costume ? I ang zem in 
 ze 'All." 
 
 "It is very good of you," she replied, ''but 
 I haven't any photographs ; I wish I had ! " 
 
 He rolled his head reprovingly. 
 
 "Vot song^ you ave?" he asked. "Nice 
 songs?" 
 
 '' Oh, I have plenty of songs here — all kinds. 
 I can sing whatever you like." 
 
 ''Bienl I shall see; I shall 'ear zem at ze 
 re^^^rsal." 
 
 She was not long in discovering that he had 
 an affection for the last word ; it contained the 
 only aspirate that he seemed to have mastered, 
 and he was evidently vain of it. During their 
 short walk along the boulevard, Monsieur Le Beau 
 referred several times to the re^^rsal, and always 
 pronounced it as boastfully as if it had been the 
 name of a distinguished son. 
 
 Most people who have stayed in Paris know 
 that there exists there a peculiar and unpleasant 
 
 40 
 
Out the Window 
 
 tavern, bathed in blue light, where the customers 
 are received by persons habited to resemble 
 celestial beings. It is called ''le Cabaret du 
 Ciel/' There exists also an equally peculiar, 
 though less offensive, establishment where the 
 lights blaze red, and the attendants, attired as 
 devils, greet the visitor with the assurance that 
 Satan is waiting for him. This is called ''le 
 Cabaret de TEnfer.'' One day it occurred to 
 a man who passed that it would be a bright idea 
 to intersert a concert-room, which should be called 
 *'le Cabaret de THomme'' because it stood be- 
 tween ^'heaven" and ''hell." 
 
 The scheme was impracticable, but the name 
 lingered in his mind. ''Cabaret de I'Homme'' 
 was inscribed on the fa9ade before which Mon- 
 sieur Le Beau stopped. The girl, who had been 
 realising the sensations of a prima donna, stared 
 at it blankly. A shop window had been thickly 
 coated with red paint, and to the centre pane 
 a strip of paper was fastened, headed Ce Soir. 
 Beneath was a list of the singers' names, ap- 
 parently scrawled with a small brush dipped in 
 ink. She saw that the upper half of the primitive 
 advertisement was devoted to herself, and lest 
 she should overlook it. Monsieur Le Beau pointed 
 it out to her. 
 
 41 
 
when Love Flies 
 
 You understand ? he said, translating — 
 
 'ZIS EVENING 
 MADEMOISELLE MEENIE VESTON 
 EENGLEESH ARTISTE 
 FOR ZE FIRST TIME IN FRANCE.''' 
 
 She nodded, trying to conceal her disappoint- 
 ment, and he opened the door. 
 
 It was dark inside. The room was low, and 
 the paint on the window kept the light out. 
 Momentarily she did not see much ; she was only 
 conscious of the atmosphere, rank with the stale 
 fumes of cigarettes. As her sight adapted itself 
 to the obscurity, she saw that cigarette ends lay 
 everywhere ; they littered the floor, and soaked 
 in the beer-stained glasses which a sleepy-eyed 
 waiter was collecting from the little tables. 
 You allow smoking here ? " she faltered. 
 
 " But certainly ; in France always ! Ca ne fait 
 rien. You sing just as good. Vait a beet ! " 
 
 He disappeared and left her to swallow her 
 mortification. For an instant she wished with all 
 her heart that she were back in London, critical 
 as her situation there had been. Even when she 
 had told herself that any engagement was better 
 than none, her dejection refused to yield to the 
 argument. 
 
 She sat on a frowsy velvet lounge against the 
 42 
 
Out o' the Window 
 
 wall, noting the sordidness of the scene — the 
 semicircular bar, the disordered chairs by which 
 the tables were meant to be surrounded, the small 
 platform supporting a piano. So this was the 
 concert-hall. Miss Joyce had not lost much ! As 
 yet her reflections went no further than that ; it 
 did not occur to her all at once that Mr. Hughes 
 had deliberately misled her. 
 
 In a few minutes a swarthy woman with an 
 enormous bust advanced. Meenie got up, and 
 the woman said — 
 
 ''Eh Hen, ma chere ! 'Ow you are? My 
 usband tell me you spik no French, no ? Sit 
 down, 7na chere. 'E go to find ze pianist. You 
 are tired after your travel, yes ? " 
 
 No, Tm not very tired," said Meenie ; IVe 
 been resting at the lodgings.'' There was a 
 pause, and since the manageress was so cordial, 
 she thought she might as well seek advice on 
 her threatened dilemma. Perhaps you could 
 tell me what I ought to pay for meals there?" 
 she went on. ''I can't go out — I mean I am 
 bound to have them all in the apartments— and 
 I shall only have twenty-five francs next Wed- 
 nesday to settle everything." 
 
 Appartement ? " said Madame Le Beau ; 
 *'you ave an appartement, ma chere f 
 
 43 
 
when Love Flies 
 
 A room — a bedroom ; Mr. Hughes recom- 
 mended the place to me. The rent is moderate 
 enough ; but I have so little to manage with the 
 first week." 
 
 *''Owmuch she charge you?'' asked the woman. 
 Twelve francs. Of course this is nothing 
 to do with you ; I oughtn't to talk to you about 
 
 it, but " 
 
 Ca ne fait rien,'' said the other, shrugging 
 her shoulders ; I understand. Do not unquiet 
 yourself! She know me verra veil; if she not 
 trust you, you say to er she is to come to me 
 — I tell 'er it ees all right. And she ees verra 
 good — you no find in ze quartier an 'ouse more 
 sheep as her. Ah, oui, out, out' — she flapped 
 her fingers soothingly — do not unquiet your- 
 self! Listen, ma chere ; your costume ees in ze 
 dressing-room. Ven you ave sung you put it 
 on — you see if it fit you nice." 
 
 '''Costume'?" Meenie looked at her with 
 big eyes. '' Do I sing in costume — there on 
 that platform? I have my own dress." 
 
 Eh bien, if you prefer it, ma chere — ca ne 
 fait rien ! Vot ees it, your dress ? " 
 
 The girl explained breathlessly. She had not 
 been in the chorus lonor enough to wear bur- 
 lesque attire on the stage without embarrassment, 
 
 44 
 
Out o' the Window 
 
 and the thought of donning it for a room terrified 
 her. 
 
 Oh, but no ! exclaimed the manageress 
 when she understood; ^'it must be costume — 
 zat ees impdratif ! But it ees not shoking — you 
 will see, ma chere. You will like it quite much." 
 
 Monsieur Le Beau returned now, with a bent 
 old man who crept to the piano ; and during the 
 next hour Meenie sang selections from her reper- 
 tory, while the waiter rinsed the glasses in a pail. 
 
 It proved an irksome task. She learnt that 
 her introductory song and her last must be lively, 
 and the husband and wife shook their heads 
 again and again. Their names were Isidore and 
 Marie she soon discovered ; and after each re- 
 frain the man grimaced at Marie, or Marie pursed 
 her thick lips at Isidore. Then they cried shrilly 
 together, Plus gai ! Plus gai and the man 
 added, ''Ze programme ees tres important — it 
 ees for zat raison ve make a re/^arsal ! 
 
 The pianist only addressed her once ; he spoke 
 in French, and she could not understand what he 
 said. He accompanied so well that it startled 
 her to see his face ; what was left of his mind 
 seemed far away. She wondered what he was 
 thinking of while he played. The stare in his 
 sunken eyes made her fancy that he looked 
 
 45 
 
When Love Flies 
 
 through the music and the cabaret into a time 
 when he too had known his hopes. ''Plus gai ! 
 Plus gai I came the cry ; his expression never 
 changed. Automatically he turned the next 
 sheet that she passed to him — like an automaton 
 the wasted fingers worked the gayer tune ; and 
 so he sat there, a human wreck recalling God 
 knows what. 
 
 Allerseelen " had been accepted for her 
 second turn without discussion, but when The 
 Fair Fakir had contributed her third, there was 
 still the question what she should sing first. 
 Eventually she bethought herself of a ditty called 
 
 The Mermaid and the Tar," and she was thank- 
 ful as she sang it to see Monsieur Le Beau s bald 
 crown swaying complacently to the air. 
 
 When she stopped, he signified his approval of 
 this, and it was settled that she should make her 
 bow to le Cabaret de I'Homme with ^^The Mer- 
 maid and the Tar." The manageress patted her 
 on the arm. 
 
 ^'Sharming, ma chere ! Les dtudiants — ze 
 Eengleesh and ze Americains — will be much 
 pleased. Mon Dieu, zey will be dpatSs I File 
 est piqua7ite, 7iest ce pas, Isidore ? Come now, 
 ma chere, and I show you ze pretty costume." 
 
 She led Meenie to a dressing-room not much 
 46 
 
Out the Window 
 
 larger than a cupboard, and little more luxurious. 
 A narrow shelf was strewn with some old copies 
 of Gil Bias, and on these the costume was ex- 
 posed to view. The girl took it, and turned pale. 
 Her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth for a 
 moment, but she faced the woman steadily. 
 I can't wear that, Madame Le Beau," she said. 
 
 ^'Comment? " exclaimed the woman with a start. 
 I can't wear it ; I wouldn't put it on ! " 
 
 Madame Le Beau could storm in spite of 
 her suave tone — the capability was advertised 
 on her face — and Meenie waited for a tempest 
 now. To her surprise the cloud passed ; the 
 frown that had caught the heavy brows relaxed. 
 
 *'You not like it? You find it not modeste ? 
 Verra veil, ma chere ! All right — you shall ave 
 anozzer ! " 
 
 The answer was so unexpected that the girl 
 strove to palliate her refusal. 
 
 You see what it is ! " she said deprecatingly ; 
 I couldn't really ! " 
 
 *'No, no, no, ma deere — vot you pliz ! If 
 you not like it, we go to ze costumier — you 
 shall shoose for yourself. You 'ave time, ees 
 it not? Ve go togezzer to la Rue de Provence." 
 
 Not many a manageress would have been 
 equally submissive, even in the circumstances ; 
 
 47 
 
when Love Flies 
 
 and Meenies gratitude was tempered by the 
 fear that the man s deportment would surprise 
 her less. When they rejoined him, however, 
 and he heard where they were going, he did 
 not appear to demur. With a little natural 
 vanity she began to feel that her abilities had 
 rendered them eager to conciliate her. Her 
 eyes brightened, and for a minute her mean 
 surroundings brightened also. 
 
 Outside, in the sunshine, Madame Le Beau 
 looked commoner still, she thought. Indeed the 
 gross Frenchwoman and the pale-faced girl, 
 whose wondering glances proclaimed her a 
 stranger, made as ill - assorted a pair as the 
 city could show, as they descended from Mont- 
 martre. More than once a head was turned 
 cynically to gaze after them ; a lounger at one 
 of the caf6s they passed smiled to his companion 
 with an expressive shrug. 
 
 In la Rue de Provence, at a wardrobe-dealers, 
 where Madame Le Beau was evidently on in- 
 timate terms, they examined the stock. Afraid 
 of pressing her objections too far, Meenie was 
 at last forced to declare herself content with a 
 burlesque costume of pale blue satin. The 
 material was creased, and the trimmings were 
 tarnished, but she saw that the skirt would reach 
 
 48 
 
Out o' the Window 
 
 her knees, and that its trail of pink roses could 
 be utilised to heighten the corsage. How much 
 was paid she did not hear. 
 
 The parcel was awkward to carry, and she 
 was glad when she arrived at Madame Montjou s 
 door. There the manageress parted from her, 
 reminding her to be at the cabaret at nine 
 o'clock. Montjou, who admitted her, inquired 
 if she would like ddjeuner. Though ddjeuner 
 signified ''breakfast" to her mind, she was too 
 hungry to argue about a name. She said We ! 
 We ! and at an untidy table, by which she 
 perceived that some other lodgers had already 
 lunched, she was served with soup and stew. 
 
 Upstairs the parcel was untied, and she put 
 the costume on. She found that she must alter 
 it ; so she unlocked her trunk again, and felt 
 for the old night-light box that held her needles 
 and cotton. Fantastically attired, and with an 
 intense expression, she twisted herself before 
 the mirror, considering her mode of attack. She 
 frowned deeply, and seemed to perpend the fate 
 of empires. Presently the crisis passed, and 
 her brow cleared ; she had resolved to take in 
 the bodice an inch each side and to put two 
 pleats behind in the band of the skirt. 
 
 After the alterations had been successfully 
 D 49 
 
When Love Flies 
 
 accomplished, she took out the white shoes and 
 stockings that she had meant to wear with her 
 own frock. She had nothing further to do 
 except to wrap the things up. Therefore she 
 lay down on the bed to think. 
 
 She was roused by her landlords voice in- 
 forming her that dinner was ready, and awoke 
 to a dark room. She learnt to her surprise 
 that it was past six. Her appetite at present 
 made no demand on her purse, but as a meal 
 might be unattainable later, she supposed she 
 would be wise here to eat when she was bidden. 
 
 Two melancholy gas-jets were now lighted 
 above the dirty cloth, and she found that she 
 was to dine in company. At the table sat four 
 women in dressing - gowns ; another — a pock- 
 pitted blonde, with her hair in curling pins — 
 was clothed in a loosely buttoned ulster, ex- 
 posing a bare neck. The study afforded by 
 these five glutting women, with their sluggish 
 gaze, their flaccid mouths, and their red and 
 check wrappers, was one of abandoned brutalism. 
 It was difficult to realise that they had thoughts, 
 or vanity, or sex ; it was appallingly difficult 
 to feel that their actions had any psychological 
 importance. Among themselves there was no 
 disguise ; their natures were unfettered with 
 
 50 
 
Out o' the Window 
 
 their forms. Pretences were for the platforms 
 where they sang ; their provocations would be 
 put on with the paint. Here the squalor was 
 uncovered — and one saw the depths. 
 
 The dressing -jacket of the chorus girl, in 
 which she loves to loll in her lodging till theatre 
 time, was a familiar sight to Meenie ; the 
 spectacle presented by this salle-a-manger was 
 new and horrifying, and she registered a vow 
 to escape from Madame Montjous as quickly 
 as she could. 
 
 She escaped from the salle-a-manger after ten 
 minutes, and mounted the black staircase again. 
 The bedroom was cold and dreary, though to 
 brighten it as much as possible she lighted both 
 the candles. She intended to leave for the 
 cabaret early, lest she should mistake the route, 
 but it would have been useless to start so soon, 
 and the time seemed very long to her. By turns 
 she sat watching the waver of the candles in the 
 draught, and walked to and fro between the bed 
 and the washhand-stand to keep herself warm. 
 Through the panes of the high window the 
 rattle of Paris stirred her with the knowledge of 
 where she was ; and she recalled with a shiver 
 the days of her ambition, when she had pictured 
 herself arriving in Paris. She had always suc- 
 
 51 
 
when Love Flies Out o' the Window 
 
 ceeded before she came here in her dreams. 
 The attic was to have been luxury at the Grand 
 Hotel ; and a brougham should have been out- 
 side to drive her to the Opera House. She 
 remembered that once she had even thrilled with 
 excitement in imagining hardships as an artist. 
 The hope deferred, the fireless room, the meagre 
 salary — they had their fascination in biographies ; 
 a few chapters more, and one could be confident 
 of salvoes of applause! Who would fail to be 
 brave for half a volume ? Yes, in her girlhood 
 even the prevision of a scene like this — the mere 
 knowledge that she had the right to call herself 
 a Professional — would have warmed her blood. 
 How bleak the reality was ! She looked inward, 
 and tried to recapture the lost emotions ; but it 
 was quite in vain. 
 
 By-and-by a clock struck eight, and she made 
 ready to depart. The parcel was under her 
 arm, she left the house, and turned towards the 
 lamps that lit the boulevard. A few yards 
 past the corner she recognised the name over 
 a cafe, and hurried on, guided by the landmarks 
 that she had noted in the morning, until the 
 door of the cabaret was reached. 
 
 52 
 
CHAPTER V 
 
 A GLIMPSE of the serried audience — the 
 jingle of glasses, and the roar of a refrain. 
 She passed hastily to the dressing-room. In the 
 dressing-room she was alone. Through the par- 
 tition everything could still be heard distinctly — 
 the song, and the piano, then the hubbub, and 
 the battering of hands. 
 
 The floor was bare excepting for a ragged 
 doormat ; the single chair had a torn seat. She 
 had often been nervous, but never till now had 
 she known the nausea of nervousness. The 
 absence of a dresser added to her distress, and 
 the hooks and eyes in her shaking fingers evaded 
 one another so persistently that she was afraid 
 she would not be ready in time. 
 
 At last, when the costume was fastened, she 
 sank onto the torn seat again, and waited, 
 according to orders, till she was called. Since 
 she entered, three vocalists had been announced, 
 and nobody had disturbed her ; she wondered 
 what had become of them, and concluded that 
 there must be a second dressing-room which she 
 
 53 
 
when Love Flies 
 
 hadn't seen. Smitten by the sick fear that she 
 would forget the words she had to sing, she sat 
 reciting them under her breath. With clasped 
 hands, and her lips moving mutely, she seemed 
 to be in prayer. 
 
 Now another turn finished. The babel broke 
 out once more, and she listened dizzily to catch 
 what followed. Monsieur Le Beaus voice rose 
 out of the din : Mesdames et messieurs, j ai 
 rhonneur de vous annoncer que Mad moiselle 
 Meenie Veston 
 
 Her name struck a blow on her heart, and the 
 rest was lost. She sprang up and moved towards 
 the door with tremulous knees. It had already 
 opened ; she saw beyond it through a mist. 
 
 The cabaret was a blur of faces. As the 
 shrunken pianist rattled the introductory bars, 
 she dropped her gaze to the platform to steady 
 herself Since there were no footlights, she had 
 neither darkened her eyelashes, nor rouged her 
 cheeks ; her pallor and the timidity of her pose 
 made her an unusual figure. The note came, 
 and she began : — 
 
 A sailor went to Kiralfy's fair. 
 And fell in love with a side-show there : 
 A mermaid flaunting her amber hair — 
 She was labelled an * Illusion.' 
 
 54 
 
Out o' the Window 
 
 Her lips were ripe, and her glance was gay — 
 He longed to kneel at her feet all day ; 
 But mermaids come, as I needn^t say, 
 To a different conclusion. 
 
 Entirely false conclusion ! 
 
 To see it turned him pale ; 
 
 He marked with agitation 
 
 The lady's termination, 
 
 Oh the painful termination of the Tail ! 
 
 There was a general murmur and some tepid 
 encouragement, though few there understood 
 what she was singing about. Her self-command 
 was creeping back to her, and the scene had 
 grown clearer ; through the smoke that curled 
 to her nostrils and her mouth she could dis- 
 tinguish features now. Suddenly, with a little 
 gasp, she perceived why none of the women had 
 returned to the dressing-room ; she saw them, 
 tawdry and tinselled, among the crowd, drinking 
 at the tables. The note came — 
 
 " Before her tank, with enamoured sighs. 
 The tar looked long in the mermaid's eyes ; 
 Her feeling first was a cold surprise, 
 
 Then mer-maidenly confusion. 
 She learnt to find his devotion dear. 
 And ev'ry day he would reappear ; 
 He felt he'd part with a hemisphere 
 For to wed that fair * Illusion.' 
 
 55 
 
When Love Flies 
 
 That golden-haired * Illusion ' ! 
 
 She filled his honest life ; 
 
 Old joys were dust and ashes, 
 
 He shunned his former mashes, 
 
 And he pined to win the mermaid for his wife." 
 
 She observed one of the men put his arm 
 round a singer's neck. The woman took a whiff 
 of his cigarette, and smiled. In the alcove of 
 bottles, the manageress was regarding them im- 
 passively. A terror that had no affinity to stage- 
 fright gripped the girl, and the room swam in hot 
 haze. She resolved not to stop here ; she would 
 demand to be released ! Almost at the same 
 instant she recollected that she would forfeit the 
 homeward fare, and asked herself, dismayed, how 
 she could return. But she wouldn't stop ; no, what- 
 ever happened, she wouldn't stop. The note came— 
 
 " Then once she crept to his startled view ; 
 She'd shed her tail — and her tresses too. 
 Her hair was false, but her heart was true. 
 
 And anticipation thrilled her, 
 O fatal day ! but he called her * plain,' 
 And never came to the tank again. 
 She watched for seventeen years in vain — 
 
 Then her wounded feelings killed her. 
 
 That poor ' Illusion's ' fate, Love, 
 A warning should extend : 
 When Man's infatuated. 
 To keep him fascinated — 
 Why, remain a Fair Illusion to the end ! " 
 56 
 
Out o' the Window 
 
 The plaudits had an ironic sound to her ears 
 as she left the platform and hurried to the 
 privacy of the dressing-room. The thought of 
 completing her programme appalled her, and in 
 a frightened way she considered the practicability 
 of repudiating her agreement at once. She sus- 
 pected Mr. Hughes' good faith now, and nursed 
 her courage to declare that she had been induced 
 to sign the contract by false pretences. If the 
 fare to England were unobtainable in the circum- 
 stances ? Always at this point her cogita- 
 tions stumbled lamely. If the fare were unobtain- 
 able, what should she do ? 
 
 " ' A fair old frisky, 
 Put-away-the-whisky, 
 Good old time we had ! ' " 
 
 Another English turn was in progress. After 
 what she had seen, she understood that solitude 
 would not be permitted her for long ; yet it was 
 with a shock that she heard the handle jerked. 
 Madame Le Beau s bulk filled the doorway. With 
 her evening black, and her watch-chain, and the 
 little sticky curls flattened on her temples, she 
 had acquired a more masterful air. Even her 
 bosom seemed to domineer now, and bulged 
 authoritatively. 
 
 ''Vot for you stay ere?" she said, as Meenie 
 57 
 
when Love Flies 
 
 rose. It ees ze 'abit of ze artistes to seet at 
 ze tables, and to collect money in ze shells. You 
 find it also more gay ! Go in, ma chere ! 
 
 I want to speak to you, Madame Le Beau," 
 said Meenie. 
 
 '*You speak presently; now you go in! And 
 you make yourself agreeable ; and you say you 
 ave thirst — you find always someone to pay. It 
 ees necessary 'ere, because we charge nozzing for 
 ze admission, zat ze people drink plenty, you 
 understand ? Ze more you drink, ze better I 
 like your voice. And you can ave 'unger. 
 Make aste!'' 
 
 I must speak now ! I want you to release me, 
 please; Tm not willing to fulfil the engagement." 
 
 Comment ? You are not ' veeling ' ? " The 
 amazement was a trifle overdone ; she folded her 
 arms with a large gesture. Vot you mean } " 
 
 I didn't know what kind of engagement it 
 was. Mr. Hughes never told me — he told me 
 it was for concerts. I don't know whether he 
 deceived me on purpose or not, but I hadn't the 
 least idea what I was coming to. I've never 
 been in a place like this ; I couldn't stay in it — 
 you must let me go." 
 
 'Oo you zink you talk to ? " cried the woman 
 angrily; ''a place like zis ? What 'ave you to 
 
 58 
 
Out o' the Window 
 
 say about ze place ? It ees a respectable place, 
 ees it not ? You 'ave sign an agreement, ees it 
 not ? You do your business, and 'old your tongue, 
 or you get in trouble." 
 
 ^' I ask you to let me off," muttered Meenie. 
 
 *^You zink you take my money for nozzing, 
 yes ? You must be a fool ! " 
 
 I will send you the money as soon as I earn 
 it — I swear I will! You must know that I 
 oughtn't to have come ; you must see that there 
 has been a mistake ! Oh, Madame Le Beau, you 
 won't be so wicked as to keep me here ? " 
 
 Asses y asses, assez!'' She pointed peremp- 
 torily to the door. You are a girl who always 
 refuses, yes ? Zis morning you refuse ze costume, 
 zis evening you refuse to remain. Listen ! " 
 Her voice rose violently. ''You are ze servant 
 ere, you understand ? You ave sign an agree- 
 ment, and you do what you are told, or I show 
 you ze law. You go in, and you seet at a table, 
 and when ze gentlemen speak to you, you say, 
 ' Payez moi un bock, yes ? ' And you drink it 
 quick ! Chut ! You go ! " 
 
 ''I won't!" said Meenie, trembling. ''You 
 may make me sing, but you can't make me do 
 that. I won't go in till it's time for my next 
 song." 
 
 59 
 
When Love Flies 
 
 There was a sickening instant in which she 
 thought she was going to receive a blow, but 
 the fat arm fell again. For a few seconds the 
 woman stood lowering at her ; then, with a shrug, 
 she said — 
 
 Alors, you sing! And you make no more 
 disturbance, because you ave no right ; you ave 
 nozzing to say. You understand, ma belle de- 
 moiselle ? You have nozzing to say ! I ave 
 ze law ; eef you disobey me, you shall be punish. 
 Pah ! " She snapped her fingers in the girls 
 face, and left her to realise the position. 
 
 The girl's first step towards doing so was to 
 burst into tears. Being a sensible girl, though 
 she was an inexperienced one, she dried them 
 very soon, and decided to take the only course 
 that was open to her now, namely, to break her 
 contract as soon as she had the means to reach 
 London. 
 
 She knew the sum she required. Her ticket 
 had cost eighteen shillings and sevenpence, and 
 she determined that the surplus from her second 
 week s salary should amount to as much as that if 
 she had to live on milk and rolls in the meanwhile. 
 She must resign herself to remaining for a fort- 
 night. She formed her plans deliberately. Next 
 Wednesday, when Madame Montjou presented 
 
 60 
 
Out o' the Window 
 
 the bill, she would give her a weeks notice. It 
 would not be wise to tell her that she was leaving 
 Paris ; she would merely say that she was leaving 
 the house. Then, on the evening when she was 
 paid fifty francs, she would walk out of the 
 cabaret for the last time. When her desertion 
 was discovered she would be in England. 
 
 It was quite simple. The only blots on the 
 scheme that she could see were the enforced 
 delay and the parsimony that she must practise 
 in order to save the money. The latter defect 
 she faced cheerfully, and the former she told her- 
 self she must bear as best she could. At all 
 events, since she had gained her point, and was 
 to be allowed the privilege of withdrawing be- 
 tween her turns, the worst feature of the engage- 
 ment was averted. She recovered her composure 
 in view of this definite prospect of escape, and 
 when she was recalled to the platform she entered 
 more firmly. 
 
 She was greeted by a buzz and prolonged 
 stares. She had sung too ill to attribute them to 
 pleasurable anticipation, and she understood that 
 her retirement had been noticed, and commented 
 on. At the end of Allerseelen,'' however, there 
 was spontaneous applause, and a knot of men, 
 wearing strange hats and masses of unkempt 
 
 6i 
 
when Love Flies 
 
 hair, demanded its repetition. Their cry was 
 taken up, and the manager, lifting his heavy 
 eyelids to her, nodded his head. 
 
 So by command of the crowd she sang Aller- 
 seelen again, and now rendered it as well as she 
 was able. She was not a great singer, but her 
 voice was the purest, and by far the best-trained, 
 that had ever been heard between the smutched 
 walls. This time she forgot the incongruity of a 
 blue satin costume and pink roses to the lyric, 
 and saw the grave that she was singing of. The 
 absinthiated mind of the dreamer at the piano 
 awoke and responded to the rare call of an 
 impassioned voice, and he, too, did his best ; he, 
 too, saw a grave — where lay all the ambition, 
 and the opportunities, and the worthiness that he 
 had left behind. 
 
 She was a success. Madame Le Beau herself 
 regarded her with less disfavour as she passed, 
 and when she came back for the song from The 
 Fair Fakir she was welcomed as a favourite. 
 
 It was nearly one o'clock when she was ready 
 to leave, and she feared that, in spite of her little 
 triumph, she would now be subjected to intimida- 
 tion from the woman and her husband together. 
 To her relief, they watched her go by without 
 hindering her ; the man even favoured her with 
 
 62 
 
Out o' the Window 
 
 a listless wave of the hand. Somebody among 
 a group of loungers on the pavement addressed 
 her as she went out, and followed for a few yards, 
 she thought. That was nothing ; that was only 
 as if she had been leaving a stage-door again in 
 England. When she had toiled up the stairs, 
 and turned the key, the room on the fourth 
 floor looked a haven of rest to her. But she 
 reproached herself for selfishness in wishing 
 that she had Miss Joyces companionship and 
 counsel. 
 
 63 
 
CHAPTER VI 
 
 AITHFUL to her project, she commenced 
 
 X next day a regimen which permitted no 
 misgivings. In London she could have ventured 
 upon considerably better fare with the means at 
 her disposal, but in Paris, and in new lodgings, 
 she did not know to what extent she might be 
 cheated. She elected, therefore, to allow a wide 
 margin for dishonesty, and to reduce her meals 
 to the slenderest proportions. 
 
 The afternoon was fine, and she was tempted 
 to explore Paris, which was an unwise proceed- 
 ing, because it gave her an appetite. Her 
 wanderings, however, brought her to the grands 
 boulevards and the Place de la Concorde, and 
 this, her real introduction to Paris, so enraptured 
 her that she promised herself a similar excur- 
 sion daily. The cabaret held no developments. 
 Madame Le Beau eyed her glumly, and the 
 manager, fingering his tiny moustache, accorded 
 her a slow, surreptitious smile. As before, she 
 sang, and saw, and wished herself away ; as 
 before, she reached home tired and disgusted. 
 
when Love Flies Out o' the Window 
 
 Two evenings over ! " she murmured, as she 
 got into bed. 
 
 In any other circumstances than those which 
 were responsible for her resolve she would have 
 reflected that it was better to bear the ills she 
 had than fly to those which awaited her return. 
 As it was, she couldn't hesitate. On any night 
 the exemption granted her might be rescinded ; 
 sooner or later, her common sense told her, it 
 was sure to be. She recalled with increased 
 astonishment Madame Le Beaus compliance in 
 the matter of the costume. It was extraordinary 
 that she had been so meek, the woman who had 
 been so brutal a few hours later ! Perhaps she 
 had been drinking in the interval, and grown 
 morose ? But the question was insoluble, and 
 the girl abandoned it. 
 
 On Friday she discovered the gardens of the 
 Tuileries, and sauntered there till dusk began to 
 gather. When she made her way back, the 
 lamps were shining, and the allurements of the 
 restaurants stabbed her with familiar pangs. 
 She was pursuing a line of action which few 
 men would have the fortitude to sustain, for it 
 entailed inconveniences that she had overlooked 
 — one of them keener to her than semi-starva- 
 tion — it necessitated her exposing herself to the 
 E 65 
 
when Love Flies 
 
 curiosity and contempt of the asthmatic crone 
 and Montjou. Many people starve in Paris, as 
 elsewhere ; but here was an eccentric — an 
 Englishwoman with a salary, and credit, who 
 was too mean to eat meat ! Ten francs in her 
 pocket would have spared her this indignity ; 
 she could have appeased her hunger outside. 
 Moneyless, she was forced to exhibit her economy 
 and to endure their astonishment. 
 
 An additional embarrassment lay in the fact 
 that the mans acquaintance with English had 
 proved to be hardly more extensive than 
 her own knowledge of French. She could 
 neither offer an excuse for not descending to 
 the dining-room, nor order what she wished up- 
 stairs. Sometimes, indeed, since he had found 
 that the table d'hote was not to profit by her 
 presence, she thought that he affected to under- 
 stand even less than he could. 
 
 She was living principally upon eggs and soup, 
 lunching and dining in view of the red-draped 
 bed which was never made until she had gone 
 to the cabaret. Her avoidance of the salle-a- 
 manger kept her aloof from the women whom 
 she had shuddered at on her first evening, but 
 her observations from the platform had shown 
 her two of them among her fellow-singers. She 
 
 66 
 
Out o' the Window 
 
 wondered if it was one of these who bawled 
 the English words that she could hear from the 
 dressing-room. 
 
 As she was passing to it after her second song 
 on Friday night, a man plucked at her skirt, 
 holding up a glass, and saying something at 
 which his neighbours burst out laughing. She 
 saw that the two women seemed to enjoy her 
 discomfiture more than anybody else, and they 
 continued to laugh shrilly after she had drawn 
 herself free. In about half an hour one of them 
 joined her. It was the first time that any of 
 the '^artists" had entered the dressing-room 
 while she was there. 
 
 The woman dusted her face with a powder- 
 puff before the cracked looking-glass under the 
 gas-burner ; and having cast one or two sidelong 
 glances at the girl, said thickly — 
 
 '''Ow is it you aint with your royal mother 
 at Windsor, my dear ? Won't she ave you ? " 
 She was the blonde, who had worn the brown 
 ulster and the curling-pins. Under her make-up 
 the pock-marks were scarcely visible. 
 What ?" said Meenie. 
 
 '''Ow are all the other princesses? Did you 
 leave 'em quite well ? I feel proud to powder 
 my nose in your 'Ighnesss company. I hope 
 your 'Ighness don't object?" 
 
 67 
 
when Love Flies 
 
 To this delicate badinage the girl returned 
 no answer ; and the woman, crossing her hands 
 over her breast, and casting her eyes down, 
 simpered — 
 
 Don't look at me — Tm so shy! " The next 
 moment she abandoned derision for abuse with 
 savage swiftness. 'Oo are you?'' she demanded ; 
 *'youVe putting on a good deal o' side, ain't you ? 
 'Oo are you^ sitting here by yourself as if you 
 was a star ? Gordstrewth ! You're too big a 
 swell to obey rules, I suppose? 'Oo are you, 
 to do as you like, eh ? " 
 
 I'm not doing as I like," said Meenie, ''or I 
 shouldn't be here listening to you." 
 
 What's good enough for one is good enough 
 for all, ain't it.'^ Why should Madame favour 
 you ? Airs and graces make me sick, djear ? 
 There's no side about me. Don't think I envy 
 you, sitting in this hole by yourself — you must 
 be a precious fool. What gives me the needle 
 is differences being made. Differences make 
 me sick, djear? Fairs fair." 
 
 " I was told to sit in there, and I refused to 
 do it. Unless I'm dragged in, I wont do it ! " 
 
 Refused to do it ? " echoed the woman. 
 Refused Madame? Did you?" The statement 
 appeared to mollify her. ''Well, you've got a 
 
 68 
 
Out o' the Window 
 
 bit of pluck, for all you look so soft ! I like 
 you. It isn't often I tike a fancy to a girl, 
 but I like you. And ain't we both English, 
 among this beastly lot o' French frogs?'' She 
 was suddenly affectionate. The minute I 
 clapped eyes on you I knew we was going 
 to be pals. You stick to it, my dear, and 
 don't let 'er bully you. She'll try! Oh, I 
 know 'er — she'll try ! And she's up to all manner 
 o' dodges for driving the girls in. / don't 
 interfere — what's it to do with me? — but I like 
 you. I never said a word to 'urt your feelings, 
 did I, my dear, whatever the others may 'ave 
 done ? A lot o' toads ! Have another drink, 
 my dear ! " 
 
 Meenie got up, and moved about the little room 
 restlessly, longing for her to go, but so far from 
 taking the hint, she took the vacant chair. 
 
 Ain't we both English, you and me?" she 
 repeated. *'And that's what I said when they 
 run you down! ' She's English, like me,' I said, 
 'and no one says a word against 'er in my 
 'earing. Britons never shall be slives,' I said, 
 ' Madame or no Madame ! ' It's more'n three 
 years since / saw the good old Strand, my dear ; 
 Lord knows 'ow long it'll be before I see it 
 again! Lord knows! I often think of it, I can 
 
 69 
 
when Love Flies 
 
 tell you — these ere bocks are no earthly. 
 London's my ome — I was brought up in London. 
 I was ! I ain't kidding you — I was brought up 
 in London ; my mother ad a 'ouse in Stamford 
 Street. And a good mother, too — nobody says 
 a word against mother in my earing — a good, 
 open-earted woman. If it hadn't ha' been for 
 the drink, she'd never 'ave got in trouble, and 
 I wouldn't have took to the stige. Ah, life's 
 a 'ell of a job — a 'ell of a job ! Don't mind 
 me, my dear — I've got the 'ump to-night; 
 meeting a friend — English, like me — it upsets 
 me, and everything's so sad ! " She rested her 
 head on the shelf, and wept. 
 
 Presently she roused herself with a start, and 
 after a hasty application of the powder-puff, 
 returned to her duties. Meenie was disturbed 
 no more. These incidents were the only new 
 features of Friday night. Before she fell asleep, 
 she said, ''Three evenings over!" and thanked 
 God. 
 
 On Sunday morning she went to Service at 
 Notre Dame, arriving there by means of a 
 succession of humiliatino" little duoloo;"ues which 
 she strove vainly to curtail. 
 
 Pardon ! Ou est Notre Dame, s'il vous 
 plait ? " 
 
 70 
 
Out o' the Window 
 
 Comment ? " 
 
 Notre Dame ? " 
 " Comment ? 
 
 Notre Dame ? 
 ^^Ah— h! Notre Dame 
 
 On Sunday evening she sang as usual at the 
 cabaret. Monday was a red-letter day to her, 
 for it marked another week — the following night 
 her salary would be due. Her routine was 
 nearly always the same. The late breakfast, 
 the basin of soup, and then the ramble about 
 the city, to linger on the bridges, wondering 
 at the brightness of the Seine, to lose herself 
 in strange byways, and emerge into new scenes 
 of splendour. She stood on the steps of the 
 Opera House, and marvelled at the audacity 
 of her girlish hopes ; she stumbled on unexpected 
 market-places, where Paris burst suddenly into 
 flower ; she was fascinated by the dignity of 
 surprising stalls where old volumes in their 
 hundreds aired their decrepitude in the sunshine 
 of the quay. 
 
 Her salary was not forthcoming on Tuesday 
 night, but with Wednesday came her bill. She 
 opened it confidently — it was to be the certificate 
 of perseverance, her reward for many sternly re- 
 pressed temptations. When she had deciphered 
 
 71 
 
when Love Flies 
 
 the total, her first idea was that she must be 
 making a mistake. She scrutinised the figures 
 again. Was it possible — it couldn't be possible — 
 that they meant thirty-nine francs, and something 
 over? The warmth began to leave her cheeks, 
 and she could feel her heart beating. 
 
 It was no use deceiving herself Her bill was 
 more than fourteen francs in excess of the sum 
 due to her. But how could it be ? She puzzled 
 over the items ; the smallest was a word begin- 
 ning with an S ; that cost one franc. At last 
 she made the word out to be ''savon" — she knew 
 that savon meant soap.'' Soap, tenpence ! 
 Why strain her eyes over the hieroglyphics any 
 more.^ After ''Soap, tenpence," anything was 
 possible — even candles costing a half-crown ! 
 
 She lay back on the pillow faintly. Then, in 
 spite of all her self-denial, there wouldn't be 
 sufficient surplus from her salary next week to 
 take her home ! Sufficient ? She realised an 
 instant later that there wouldn't be any. Assum- 
 ing that the next week's bill was the same as 
 this one, she would still be in her landlady's debt. 
 Her plan was ruined, crushed ! 
 
 She felt too sick to attempt a remonstrance 
 with the brute downstairs yet ; she was glad to 
 remind herself that it was no use trying to say 
 
 72 
 
Out o' the Window 
 
 anything until Madame Le Beau had paid her. 
 Besides, how could she talk to him ? No, she 
 must submit to the inevitable. All at once the 
 prospect of escape from the Cabaret de F Homme 
 was vague ! 
 
 But thrift had been easier to practise than was 
 philosophy. The check was bitter. She ques- 
 tioned, bewildered, how much these people would 
 have had the brazenness to charge her if she had 
 indulged in ordinary fare. The Grand Hotel 
 would have been cheaper then, perhaps ? Or 
 perhaps they would have boarded her for no 
 more than they had charged her now ? The last 
 reflection shook her painfully ; it might be that 
 she could have had enough to eat for the same 
 money ! 
 
 When she rose she saw that the day was wet. 
 By-and-by the man Montjou brought in her soup, 
 and put down the tray with the indefinable in- 
 solence of manner which she always strove to 
 persuade herself existed only in her fancy. When 
 she had lunched she sat at the window, gazing at 
 the blur of rain till egg-time. 
 
 The hours were very dreary ; her experience 
 of loneliness in lodgings held no more dismal 
 picture. With the extinction of courage her out- 
 look had been plunged in gloom, and she was a 
 
 73 
 
when Love Flies 
 
 prey to the mood in which one questions what 
 justification one has in hoping for anything. 
 Hope? Her father had been hopeful almost to 
 the last ! The practice had declined and died 
 while he hoped ; hope deluded him until all 
 chance of finding a purchaser or a partner had 
 been lost. She remembered that in a rare burst 
 of bitterness he had once said to her, My life 
 has been passed in hoping, and IVe never 
 reached one of the things I hoped for. Hope 
 is incipient hallucination — in the next stage one 
 believes oneself to be Isaac Newton or Julius 
 Caesar, and has to be put under restraint.'' 
 
 For herself what ? When she entered on her 
 first engagement she had still expected to attain 
 something better. Not Isolde — she had been 
 awakened from that dream — but light parts of 
 distinction. Now it seemed to her that a voice 
 was the last qualification necessary on the comic 
 opera stage. She had been in the chorus with 
 women who could not sing a note ; she had met 
 women who had left the Academy or the Guild- 
 hall to conquer London, and they, too, were in 
 the chorus, their medals preserved, but their con- 
 fidence long lost. With interest to provide her 
 with a chance, she would have emerged from 
 the ruck, and made some little reputation, she 
 
 74 
 
Out o' the Window 
 
 thought ; without it she would belong to this 
 heterogeneous crowd for life. A unit among the 
 ambitious and the apathetic, the gifted and the 
 incompetent, the refined and the vulgar, the 
 virtuous and the immoral — the chorus — that was 
 her lot ! Never to scramble any higher ; to 
 count herself blessed when a tour lasted four 
 months ; to be like a girl she had known in the 
 Stratford pantomime, who lived in Camberwell, 
 and reached Liverpool Street every night after 
 the last 'bus had gone. It was a long walk — 
 she got home about half-past two. And three 
 mornings in the week she had to be back in time 
 for the matinee ; during the evening performance 
 she could scarcely bear the pressure of her 
 spangled shoes, and used to peel them off after the 
 processions, and cry. Her name was forgotten. 
 What did ft matter ? — Legion ! 
 
 At nine o'clock the cabaret once more. The 
 scowl of the sensual woman ; the leer of the 
 sensual man; the artists" — how did they find 
 that word ? — in their tawdry satins ; the unin- 
 telligible shouts, the rattle of the glasses, and 
 the hot dense fumes of tobacco. All this through 
 hopeless eyes, all this while her mind reiterated 
 that her plan was spoilt. 
 
 Her salary was not sent in to her. Before she 
 75 
 
when Love Flies 
 
 left, she lingered at the bar and asked for it. 
 The cabaret was nearly empty ; Isidore and 
 Marie bent their heads together at the till. 
 
 ''Could you let me have my salary?'' she 
 murmured. 
 
 Le Beau flicked the ash from his cigarette 
 and lounged away. The woman stared at her 
 silently. 
 
 She repeated : '' My salary — the twenty-five 
 francs." 
 
 '' Your salary ? Vot you mean ? I do not 
 understand.'' 
 
 " You don't understand ? " 
 
 " But no ; 'ow your salary ? I pay for ze 
 costume a 'undred and fifty francs. Enfin, when 
 you 'ave earnt so much, you ask for salary." 
 
 You're going to charge me for the costume ? " 
 stammered Meenie. 
 
 Vot you zink, you zink I buy it you for 
 love? Allez-vous-en ; I am busy!" 
 
 Madame Le Beau, I must have my money ! 
 I've my bill to pay; I haven't a penny, I can't 
 go on without money. I've never had to pay 
 for a costume in any engagement I've been in ; 
 it isn't usual — the thinor is unheard of! " 
 
 o 
 
 Madame Le Beau lifted her fat shoulders 
 almost to her ears. 
 
 76 
 
Out o' the Window 
 
 It ees ze rule 'ere. Eef a girl ees not con- 
 tent to wear ze costume I offer, a/ors^ she pay 
 for anozzer ! She ees a fool, but zat ees all." 
 
 ''I see," said Meenie slowly, ''I see now." 
 Her desperation drove her to a last appeal. 
 
 Then draw a little off the salary each week. 
 If you stop the whole of it, I shall starve." 
 
 ''Zat ees not my affair. I owe you nozzing ; 
 you owe to me ! And you need not starve ! . . . 
 I ave told you 'ow to get rafratchissements at ze 
 tables, but you would not. Aha! . . . zink it 
 over, ma chere ; you see I ave advise you for 
 ze best." 
 
 She nodded triumphantly, and turned her back. 
 After a moment the girl passed out. 
 
 77 
 
CHAPTER VII 
 
 w 
 
 ELL? . . . What was going to happen? 
 She was liable to be turned out of her 
 lodging at a moment s notice. She entered the 
 house, quaking with the thought that a settle- 
 ment might be demanded of her in the passage. 
 This did not occur, however ; nobody saw her 
 come in. She had been furnished with a key by 
 now, and she stole up the stairs on tiptoe. 
 
 What was going to happen ? She sat asking 
 herself the question in a kind of stupor. She 
 asked herself why she should continue to endure 
 the cabaret, since she was to receive no pay- 
 ment ; but the answer was that Madame Le 
 Beau could summon her if she didn't. How 
 long would these people wait ? At the most 
 another week, she supposed. And then ? She 
 would have no money then ; it would be three 
 weeks before she had any. What was to 
 become of her when their patience was ex- 
 hausted ? She must move, and live on credit 
 again. But would they let her take her 
 trunk ? . . . 
 
 78 
 
when Love Flies Out o' the Window 
 
 If she gave the Le Beau couple cause for 
 summoning her, her dilemma would be revealed 
 to a magistrate ; it would be the best thing she 
 could do. But their action was indefensible — 
 they would be afraid to summon her. . . . Then 
 she need not go back to the cabaret, after all ? 
 Ah, but if she defied them, they would inform 
 Madame Montjou, and Madame Montjou would 
 turn her adrift at once ! To retain the engage- 
 ment was the only way to retain a shelter. 
 
 Two of the women had slammed their doors 
 already. By-and-by the stairs creaked again, 
 and she knew that another had come home. 
 There was seldom much sleep to be had between 
 the hours of one and three, and she was often 
 disturbed by the sound of voices which she did 
 not hear during the day ; but to-night the house 
 was quieter than usual. The steps drew near 
 and paused. Her heart, heavy with the thought 
 of her bill, sank suddenly, and she wished that 
 she had blown the candles out. There was a 
 knock, and the handle turned. 
 
 ''Whos that?'' she exclaimed. 
 Me! Its all right," said a voice she remem- 
 bered. Let me come in.'' 
 
 ^^What do you want? I'm in bed." This 
 wasn't true. 
 
 79 
 
when Love Flies 
 
 I want to speak to you ; I saw the light, so 
 I knew you was awake." 
 
 ''Come in the morning — I'm very tired." 
 
 ''Come on, don't be a fool — open the door! 
 I want to speak to you." 
 
 She crossed the room irresolutely, and turned 
 the key and put her head out. 
 
 " Its all right," repeated the pock-pitted blonde; 
 " Tm not drunk. I thought Td give you a 
 look up. I was there when you was talking to 
 Madame. She wouldn't part, would she ? " 
 
 " No," said Meenie. 
 
 " I knew she wouldn't — I could ave told you 
 that before." She came in uninvited and sat 
 down. "The stairs 'ave winded me!" she mur- 
 mured. " But I thought I'd give you a look 
 up. You've got the ump, eh ? Wish you was 
 dead ? I daresay you think it's got nothing to 
 do with me, one way or the other, but I felt 
 sorry for you — that's all about it. It's no kid ; 
 I mean it ! I talked a lot o' rot the other night 
 — I'd had a tiddley or two — but I'm sober now, 
 and if I could 'elp — kelp you, I would ! That's 
 square talk, ain't it ? You can believe it or not, 
 but it's square. Look 'ere, if you've got a friend 
 in London, you write to 'im. Tell 'im he must 
 get you out of this, if 'e pawns his ticker. . . . That's 
 
 80 
 
Out o' the Window 
 
 square too, ain't it ? You may do as you like ; 
 but you can't sye it ain't square." 
 
 I haven't a friend," said Meenie. I'm sure 
 you mean well. I'd get out of it to-morrow if 
 I could, but I can't. I don't know what I'm 
 going to do. I can't go away, and I can't pay 
 my bill." 
 
 ''Why, of course you can't pye your bill," said 
 the visitor; ''that's 'ow they manage it. A girl 
 'oo can't pye 'er bill can't hold out, you see, my 
 dear. And a nice bill it is. Til bet ! 'Ow much ? " 
 
 "Thirty-nine francs — and I've been stinting 
 myself all the week so as to save enough to get 
 back with ! " 
 
 " I began to guess that, when you never came 
 down. First, when I 'eard your voice, I thought 
 you'd got special terms — that was what put my 
 monkey up — but I soon found out. Lor', I've 
 seen 'em before you — seen 'em in 'Avre — ZTavre 
 — lot's of 'em ! There was one poor girl— Well, 
 never mind that ! - Madame works the racket with 
 these 'ere Montjous ; they pile up the bill, and 
 she fines the girl and stops her salary. And 
 what's a poor devil to do then ? That's the long 
 and the short of it, my dear. You wouldn't wear 
 the costume she showed you — I know all about 
 it now ; that costume trick's as old as the three- 
 
 F 8l 
 
when Love Flies 
 
 card fike. If you'd worn the costume, she'd 
 ave stopped your money because you wouldn't 
 obey rules. You can be precious sure she'd 'ave 
 stopped it somehow." 
 
 But does she pay nobody — doesn't she pay 
 
 Oh, me ? " returned the other. Oh, y-e-s. 
 . . . But you see I'm one of them as didn't 
 mind the rules, my dear. They made no odds 
 to mey 
 
 There was a short silence. She found a 
 cigarette in her pocket, and lit it in the candle- 
 flame, and sat puffing vigorously. 
 
 It was kind of you to come up," said Meenie. 
 **'Tain't done you no good." 
 It's something to know that someone is sorry 
 for you." 
 
 Yes, I've told you I'm sorry. What do you 
 mean to do } " 
 
 I can't think. What would you do if you 
 were . . . like me ? " 
 
 Gord ! " said the poor wretch. The question 
 seemed to bewilder her. I can't think neither ; 
 I — I never was.'' After a minute she added with 
 decision, I should 'ave enough to eat anyhow 
 if I was you — as well be 'ung for a sheep as 
 a lamb!" 
 
 82 
 
Out o' the Window 
 
 "Yes, I shall have enough to eat — if they let 
 me stop/' 
 
 " Oh, they'll let you stop for a bit ; they knew 
 you wouldn't get your money this week as well 
 as Madame did. They'll take good care to collar 
 it the moment you do ! " 
 
 ''But even when she pays me ? Their 
 
 bills are so high." 
 
 ''You needn't be afride of them losing any- 
 thing by you. Don't you fret about that. How 
 long 'ave you signed for — two months ? " 
 
 ''Three." 
 
 "Ah ! " She relapsed into silence. 
 ''What do you mean ? " 
 
 " Me ? Oh, they won't lose anything by you, 
 that's all ! . . . Don't you worry about them cutting 
 up rough yet ; they're sife to trust you when 
 you're booked for three months. I shall go to 
 bed now. Keep your pecker up ! It'll be all the 
 sime in a 'undred years." 
 
 "Good night,"-said Meenie. 
 
 "Goo' night. . . . That's true what you said 
 just now ? " 
 
 "What?" 
 
 " About your not 'aving a friend ? " 
 " Quite true." 
 
 " Because if you've only split with 'im, just you 
 83 
 
when Love Flies Out o' the Window 
 
 tike my advice, and mike it up. Never mind 
 what 'e did— mike it up, and tell 'im e must get 
 you out of this, if e pawns his ticker! Goo' 
 night." 
 
 ^^Good night." 
 
 *'/V/pye for the stamp if you re stony. Don't 
 forget." 
 
 I shan't forget ; but I've nobody to write to." 
 
 Oh, well ! " She lingered at the door regret- 
 fully, and then found comfort in the phrase that 
 comprised her philosophy : It'll be all the sime 
 in a 'undred years ! " she said again. 
 
 84 
 
CHAPTER VIII 
 
 RELIEVED from the dread of Montjou 
 clamouring for payment, Meenie was able 
 to behold him with composure on the morrow. 
 The knowledge of the full measure of his 
 rascality was alleviating. She made no refer- 
 ence to her bill ; since he understood the circum- 
 stances, she was spared the necessity for proffering 
 excuses. But the conversation had made it clear 
 to her that on one pretext or another the 
 manageress would withhold the salary until she 
 had forced her to submit to the abominable rules ; 
 so even when the costume had been paid for, she 
 couldn't expect any money — she couldn't expect 
 any till she yielded ! She was dizzy ; she groped 
 in the dark on unfamiliar ground. Strain her 
 eyes as she might, she could not see a step ahead. 
 She told Montjou that in future she would take 
 her meals in the dining-room. He said, Bien ! 
 She preferred the company of the women in 
 their dressing-gowns to being hungry any longer. 
 Pressure tells. 
 
 Madame Le Beau threw her an inquiring 
 85 
 
when Love Flies 
 
 glance, as if to ascertain her frame of mind, 
 when she entered the cabaret that evening. 
 When she quitted it, she received a scowl. The 
 same the next night. On Saturday, on the Boule- 
 vard Clichy, she met her manager. She bowed, 
 and instinctively quickened her pace, but he 
 halted promptly, and she was obliged to stop. 
 His greeting signified comprehension and even 
 sympathy. 
 
 Ah, mees, ees it not verra fine a day ? " he 
 said. You take your promenade, yes ? " 
 
 Yes," she said, Tm going for my walk." 
 
 Ze fine weather ees good to make forget, eh ? 
 I, also, I find it so. I ave always perceived that 
 eef I ave trouble, and I take my stroll in ze sun- 
 shine, ze 'eart grow light. Ees it not ? Viz me 
 nevare it fail ! In Nature zere ees somezing 
 magique ! " 
 
 He turned beside her, and she wondered how 
 he had the audacity to allude to her trouble. He 
 seemed, however, quite unconscious of audacity. 
 
 In London," he said, pursuing his amiable 
 topic with a wave of his cigarette, ''quite ze 
 contraire ! I was for five year in London. Oh, 
 mon Dieu ! Ze dark 'ouses, ze black streets, ze 
 solemn, solemn people in a urry! You pardon 
 me, mademoiselle, zat I say so ? But in London 
 
 ?6 
 
Out o' the Window 
 
 nevare my 'eart grow light when I promenade — 
 it grow eavy, eavy ! Eef I put on my at appy, 
 I come ome to weep." 
 
 There is Nature in London too" she said, 
 smiling. 
 
 Ah, out, but zere ees so little art! And zere 
 ees so little gaietd, zere ees so little gas. You 
 must feel ze difference? It ees not possible to 
 sing — as you sing, mad moiselle — vizout a soul ; 
 to a woman or a man viz a soul London ees 
 dpouvantable ! Non, non^ non, I make no com- 
 pliments ! You 'ave in ze voice ze tears, ze 
 'opes, ze sentiment ; I remark it at ze re/^(^rsal. 
 Ven I listen to you, I forget ze cafe. Vraiment ! 
 It urt me verra much that you are not con- 
 tent ere. Already I ave spoke to my vife, 
 but you ave irritate *er. I find it difficult to 
 arrange." 
 
 You have spoken to her about me said the 
 girl eagerly; asking her to pay me, do you 
 mean.^ Oh, Monsieur Le Beau, if she only 
 would ! If she'd only give me enough to pay 
 my bill and my fare back!" 
 
 ''You vish so much to go back?" he inquired. 
 ''Yes, it ees natural! You not like ze place, 
 and it ees not refined for you. You understand 
 veil that ven you were engaged I knew nozzing. 
 
 87 
 
when Love Flies 
 
 I would not ave allowed that you came 'ere. 
 You were a success in London ? " 
 
 ^^Oh, no— far from it!" 
 But eef you return, vot will you do ? Vizout 
 money you find ze dark London no paradise, eh ? " 
 
 ''No," she admitted, '' I shan't find London a 
 
 paradise, but Oh, Monsieur Le Beau, you 
 
 must know what my situation is ! I am being 
 cheated at my lodgings — I can't complain, and 
 I can't pay ; presently they'll turn me out ! 
 Madame Le Beau says she is keeping back my 
 salary to cover the expense of the costume she 
 bought for me, but it isn't for that- — it is to make 
 me like the other women ; while I refuse, she 
 will never give it to me ! What's to be the end ? 
 When the Montjous are tired of waiting, what's 
 to become of me? You say you're sorry I'm 
 not content here : you're the manager — I was 
 engaged to come to you — I hadn't even heard 
 of Madame Le Beau till I arrived — if you mean 
 what you say, treat me fairly ! Cancel my 
 contract and send me home ! " 
 
 Eef I was alone in ze business," he said, 
 ''you would not 'ave 'ad to ask. But my 
 
 vife " He waved the cirarette ao^ain. "It 
 
 ees not so easy as it appear to you. All ze same 
 I can save you much, and — I may do all" 
 
 88 
 
Out o' the Window 
 
 Thank you," she answered perfunctorily ; she 
 could not feel that she had begged him to do 
 anything arduous. 
 
 ''Ze fact ees," he went on, ''she would com- 
 plain much to lose you ; you can see that we 'ave 
 no one zat compare viz you. Not only your 
 voice — your face, your figure, your grace ! 
 Already you are an attraction at ze cabaret.*' 
 
 ''Then why can't she be satisfied if I sing.^^ 
 I don't grumble about that ! If she'll give me 
 my salary every week, and let me continue to 
 go to the dressing-room between my songs, I'll 
 stop for the three months willingly." 
 
 "You 'ave irritate 'er," he murmured. "I 
 shall talk to 'er again ; in me you 'ave a friend. 
 You 'ave known zat, yes ? " 
 
 " N— no," she said. 
 
 " I admire you like I 'ave nevare admired . . . 
 zat ees true. You 'ave not seen ? " 
 "Seen?" 
 *' Tell me ! " 
 
 " Tm glad my voice was good enough," she 
 stammered. 
 
 "Oh, your voice! If you 'ad no voice, still 
 I should admire. Listen veil : ze time will come 
 ven all Paris will admire ! And one day your 
 voice will be — ah, /a voix (Tune sirene ! Only 
 
 89 
 
when Love Flies Out the Window 
 
 one zing it vant yet — you ave not love. Ven 
 you 'ave been taught to love you vill give to it 
 ze touch magique zat shall make you celebrate." 
 
 She stood still and forced a little laugh. I 
 hope your good wishes will come true ! When 
 Tm celebrated I shall remember them." She 
 tendered her finger-tips. ''I'm taking you out 
 of your way." 
 
 Eef I do all you vant," the man questioned 
 slowly, '' you vill be grateful to me, yes ? " 
 
 I should thank you and Madame Le Beau 
 very much." She drew her hand free. 
 
 The languid eyelids fell, and he gave the 
 faintest shrug. 
 
 ''Adieu, mademoiselle," he said. 
 
 90 
 
CHAPTER IX 
 
 THE Montjou couple proved less patient 
 than had been predicted. A few days 
 later the man entered Meenie s room and de- 
 manded the sum due to him. She could not 
 understand many of his words, but his voice and 
 gestures were significant enough as he slapped 
 the bill and shouted at her. Conjecturing that 
 the blonde was in bed, and that she spoke a little 
 French, Meenie ran downstairs and beat at her 
 door, Montjou following excitedly. 
 
 *'They want their money ; he s making a row," 
 she explained. I can't talk to him. Tell him 
 they shall have it as soon as I get it ; tell him 
 it s not my fault ! 
 
 The blonde appeared on the landing in her 
 ulster. Her French was weak, but her tone was 
 vigorous ; she put her arms akimbo. 
 
 " What's all this ? " she exclaimed. What are 
 you bullying the girl for ? Don't try these games 
 on here — they won't wash. When she's paid 
 she'll pay you. You must jolly well wait ! " 
 
 **Wait.>" He flourished the bill again. Is 
 91 
 
when Love Flies 
 
 it reasonable that we should board and lodge her 
 for nothing ? That cannot be ! We have been 
 patient ; we have waited too long ; we are not to 
 be swindled ! Mad moiselle has been receiving a 
 salary ever since she arrived, and she eats and 
 drinks, and pays nothing/' 
 
 ''Are you trying to kid me? Mad moiselle 
 has not received her salary — she hasn't had a sou 
 — and you know very well she hasn't! If you 
 want your money, tell your pals at the show to 
 part ; then you'll be all right." 
 
 I have nothing to do with the show ; I have 
 nothing to do with the affairs of mad moiselle. 
 Here is the bill. I want my money." 
 
 '' She hasn't got any." 
 Then I keep her here no more ! You under- 
 stand ? " He turned to Meenie : You must go. 
 I keep your box, and you go. I give you two 
 more days ; if you have not paid in two days, 
 it is finished ! " 
 
 What does he say ? " said Meenie. 
 
 ''He says if you don't pay up in two days, he'll 
 keep your box, and you must go." 
 
 "Yes, yes, yes," said the man in English. 
 "Two days. You 'ave 'eard ? Two days!" 
 And he returned to the basement muttering. 
 
 "Come inside," said the blonde. "Well, you'll 
 'ave to give in ! " 
 
 92 
 
Out o' the Window 
 
 Meenie was very white. I shall go round 
 to Madame Le Beau and tell her what he says/' 
 
 What s the good of that, you fool ? She s 
 put him up to sye it ! 
 
 I must try. It can't do any harm.'' 
 You'll be wasting your breath. The best thing 
 you can do is to take a shell to-night. When all's 
 said and done, what's the use of fussing ? You see 
 'ow it is ; as well do it first as last ! " 
 
 The girl shook her head. Though she wasn't 
 hopeful she would not neglect a chance ; she was 
 determined to make a forlorn attempt to secure 
 fair play. She hurried through the streets, 
 questioning whether she should plead or threaten. 
 She reflected that her threats would probably be 
 laughed at, for even if she weren't friendless, her 
 charges would be very difficult to substantiate. 
 She had signed the contract, and she had insisted 
 on another costume being provided for her. Who 
 could prove that she had not known she was 
 to pay for it ? No, it would be futile to threaten ! 
 Ostensibly the manageress was justified in with- 
 holding the salary at present ; and as to the 
 Montjous' claim, she was no more responsible for 
 her singers' debts in their apartments than for 
 their debts at a jeweller's. The only plan was to 
 plead. 
 
 93 
 
when Love Flies 
 
 Since their conversation on the boulevard 
 Monsieur Le Beau had wholly ignored her ; but 
 he greeted her this morning with a faint smile. 
 She told him that she wanted to see his wife, and 
 he did not remain to witness the interview. 
 
 It lasted only a short time. It was not an 
 angry interview — such little anger as was dis- 
 played was on the side of the girl. The woman 
 talked quite calmly. The position, she repeated, 
 was lamentable ; nobody could regret it more 
 than she did — it always pained her to see a girl 
 standing in her own light ! Her tone at this 
 moment was truly motherly. If Mees Veston " 
 would obey the rules, an endeavour should be 
 made to pacify the people at her lodgings until 
 she was able to settle their account ; if she con- 
 tinued to be obstinate, she could not expect the 
 manageress to perform friendly services. 
 
 I ave to ask you to take your place viz ze 
 ozzers, and to be amiable to the customers, bien 
 entendu. Ees it ' yes * or * no '.^^ " 
 
 No,'' said Meenie, crying, I — I can't ! " 
 
 Nothing more was said, but in the evening, 
 when she left the platform after her first song, 
 she found the dressing-room door locked. 
 
 For an instant she thought it had stuck, 
 and she pushed with all her force ; in the next 
 
 94 
 
Out o' the Window 
 
 she realised what had been done, and stood 
 staring at it blankly. Perhaps she stood so 
 with her hand on the knob for ten seconds ; 
 estimated by her emotions it was a long time. 
 
 She turned from the door and went back to 
 the crowd, and sat where she saw an empty chair. 
 The only person who had shown her kindness 
 here was bellowing a comic song, and she prayed 
 that when it finished this woman without aspirates 
 and without virtue would come to her side. 
 Across the room their gaze met. Somebody 
 spoke to her, but she made no answer. When 
 she glanced towards the counter she saw that 
 Madame Le Beau was watching her. The man 
 at her elbow spoke again ; she looked to see 
 if she could change her seat, but there was none 
 vacant, or, in her confusion, she could perceive 
 none. 
 
 " ' A fair old frisky, 
 Put-away-the-whisky, 
 Good old time we had ! ' " 
 
 The singer stepped from the platform amid 
 whistles and cheers. A party of American 
 students broke into the refrain as she neared 
 them ; she swept a mock curtsey and flung a 
 piece of slang over her shoulder, but she didn't 
 stop. She sauntered to Meenie. 
 
 95 
 
when Love Flies 
 
 What s up ? " she asked as softly as her voice 
 permitted. 
 
 ''They've locked the door." 
 Come and sit by me then." 
 
 Untroubled by bashfulness, she found space 
 promptly enough on a lounge, and until she 
 began to bandy chaff with the men about them 
 her presence was fortifying. Within her limits 
 she sympathised ; she sympathised, not with her 
 reason, but her instinct, and instinct urged her 
 to spare the girl all that she understood her to 
 tremble at. That any girl could tremble at 
 the idea of talking to strangers across a table, 
 however, and imbibing beer at their expense was 
 beyond her comprehension. ^' Drink," she kept 
 whispering. ''Go on! What do you say 'no' 
 for ? Well, you are a queer one ; I never did ! " 
 
 An Englishman, who had strolled into the 
 Cabaret de T Homme for no other purpose than 
 to hear Meenie sing " Allerseelen" again, thought 
 her reluctance queer too. It was his habit to 
 observe, and he was watching her curiously ; 
 he had been watching her ever since she came 
 back and sat down. When one of the group 
 rose and went out he dropped into his place. 
 
 " Are you going to sing ' As Once in May ' 
 to-night ? " he said, leaning forward. 
 
 96 
 
Out o' the Window 
 
 She started, and the man told himself that 
 he had really stumbled on a singular study. 
 " Yes," she faltered. 
 
 Tm glad of that. You sing it well." 
 She was silent. 
 
 What are you doing in a hole like this ? " 
 
 I am engaged here." 
 
 So I see. Why ? Couldn't you do anything 
 better } " 
 
 No," she said. 
 
 Don't you want me to talk to you } " 
 rd rather you didn't." 
 
 You prefer the company of the ruffians on 
 the other side of you ? " 
 
 I would rather not talk to anyone." 
 ''All right," he said, ''just as you please!" — 
 and he relit his pipe and settled himself com- 
 fortably. 
 
 More than half an hour passed before he 
 addressed her again, and then there was a good 
 reason for it. 
 
 "Would you like to change seats with me?" 
 he inquired. 
 
 She accepted the suggestion with alacrity. 
 "Thank you very much," she murmured. 
 
 " Perhaps you would be wise to let me talk 
 to you, after all," he said. "It appears to be 
 G 97 
 
When Love Flies 
 
 necessary that you should lend an unwilling 
 ear to me or the other fellow, and / should 
 probably annoy you less." 
 
 I am much obliged to you for giving me 
 your seat/' 
 
 ''You needn't be. To be candid, IVe been 
 waiting for the chance. I saw it was bound to 
 come. Is our fair compatriot, swallowing her 
 ninth bock, a friend of yours ? " 
 She has been very kind to me.'' 
 
 ''Really? Would it be inquisitive to ask 
 how ? " 
 
 "In several ways." 
 
 " How long have you been singing here ? " 
 "Two or three weeks." 
 
 " I only heard you last night. You dis- 
 appeared between your songs last night." 
 "Yes, I was in the dressing-room." 
 " Why aren't you there now ? " 
 " Because I can't get in." 
 " How do you mean ? " 
 " It is locked." 
 
 " Locked ? Who locked it ? " 
 "The management." 
 
 "Is that a fact?" he said with animation. 
 " That's very stimulating ! Do tell me more ! 
 You've no idea how useful these details may be 
 
 98 
 
Out o' the Window 
 
 to me some day. The management — meaning 
 the woman with a figure like a feather bed — 
 locked the door, eh ? I suppose to — No, on 
 second thoughts, you shall explain." 
 
 People usually lock a door to prevent other 
 people going in," she answered curtly. 
 
 ^^Now that's brilliant!" he said; I didn't 
 suspect you shone in repartee. So they do ! 
 And whom did the fat lady want to prevent 
 going in ? " 
 
 -Me." 
 
 You are fascinating, but monosyllabic. Please 
 thaw. I assume she had a motive ? " 
 
 She wished me to be here." 
 
 And you declined to accord her that natural 
 pleasure ? " 
 -Yes." 
 
 Well, I don't blame you," he said. - In your 
 place I should have been equally ungracious ; but 
 I should also have been more prudent. What 
 did you come here at all for ? " 
 
 I didn't know what it was like." 
 
 - Couldn't the siren consenting to bock number 
 ten have told you ? " 
 
 - She ? I never saw her till I came. I came 
 from England." 
 
 - Oh, I understand ! You came from England ; 
 
 99 
 
when Love Flies 
 
 and now that you re in Rome — Precisely ! Why 
 don't you go back ? " 
 
 I can't ; they wouldn't let me off, and " 
 
 And what ? " 
 
 I can't." 
 
 The man swept her with a glance. He was old 
 enough to be near believing everything that she 
 implied, but he had not outlived the scepticism of 
 youth entirely. 
 
 I'm sorry for you," he said ; I can imagine 
 what it must be for a girl to have to submit to 
 the attentions of any brute with a franc in his 
 pocket. When you've finished, we must wash 
 the taste of the place out of our mouths with 
 some champagne. We'll go to Marguery's — or 
 to any restaurant you've a fancy for — and have 
 supper." 
 
 '*Oh, no, thank you," she said. 
 You won't ? " 
 
 She shook her head. The result of his experi- 
 ment surprised him most agreeably. 
 
 Please yourself," he said again. Halloa, 
 it's your turn! I'll keep your seat for you till 
 you come back." 
 
 He had intended to leave as soon as the song 
 was over, but when she returned he didn't rise ; 
 he remained until the dressing-room door had 
 
 lOO 
 
Out o' the Window 
 
 yielded, and even until he had seen her pass out 
 on to the boulevard. As he sauntered homeward 
 he reflected — as he had been reflecting at intervals 
 throughout the evening — that the experiences of 
 an innocent girl who found herself in one of these 
 cabarets would be interesting to hear ; he wished 
 Miss Meenie Weston had been more communi- 
 cative — she might have given him a lot of 
 information. He wished more than all that he 
 could make up his mind about her. He was 
 baffled. His judgment reproached him that he 
 hadn't advised her to break her agreement, and 
 given her the money to take her back to London ; 
 but it is difficult to credit the unlikely, and even 
 while he regretted the omission, he said he was 
 an ass. Still he regretted it. 
 
 It occurred to him that the outlay of a 
 sovereign — he thought in English — would at 
 least settle the doubts that were piquing him. 
 He had often given a penny to a child imploring 
 bread, and watched him pass the next baker s 
 shop with total unconcern. On the same 
 principle he might test the sincerity of Miss 
 Weston with a pound. He had no superfluity 
 of pounds, but as a student of character he 
 would obtain value for the money. 
 
 It was not, however, with any definite purpose 
 
 lOI 
 
when Love Flies 
 
 that he walked up to the Cabaret de T Homme 
 on the following night ; he told himself on the 
 way that he was going to be disappointed : the 
 girl would be a different being — girls were so 
 often different the second time one met them — 
 or he would not get a chance to talk to her. 
 
 In the moment of entering, he didn't see her. 
 The jingling piano, the noisy room, confused 
 him a little ; the consciousness of his interest, 
 and the waiters recognition, made him a little 
 shy. That he might select a desirable seat in 
 the least conspicuous fashion he paused at the 
 counter, and asked for a packet of cigarettes, 
 while his gaze travelled round the faces. Then 
 he moved across to her. 
 
 ''Good evening/' he said, shifting a chair, 
 and wondering if anybody was smiling at him. 
 ''So once more the door is locked?" 
 
 She gave him a half glance. " Good evening." 
 
 " Have you sung yet ? " 
 
 " Yes, twice." 
 
 "I was coming in earlier," he said, "but then 
 I began to ^sk myself if I should come at all." 
 After a few seconds he added, " I meant you 
 to say, ' Why did you ? ' " 
 
 But she said nothing. 
 
 " Don't you want to know why ? " 
 
 1 02 
 
Out o' the Window 
 
 It doesn't matter." 
 
 ''Then I must tell you. I came to talk to you 
 again, if you will let me." 
 
 ''You know very well I can't help it," she 
 answered. 
 
 "Pardon me; you have only to say I'm a 
 nuisance. I assure you that if you'd rather I 
 left you alone, I won't speak another word." 
 
 Her mouth twitched, and she looked at the 
 ground. 
 
 "If it isn't you," she said bitterly, "it must 
 be somebody else. What's the difference ? " 
 
 "Between me and any other cad, eh Well, 
 Miss Weston, I won't be a cad ; perhaps I may 
 even be useful. I swear I don't mean any harm 
 to you, and if you think my advice worth having, 
 youVe only to ask for it." 
 
 "Thank you," she murmured. "I'm afraid 
 nobody can advise me." 
 
 "There's one thing I can advise right off," 
 he said; "take a glass of wine, because the 
 Fat Lady is scowling at us. It appears to me 
 that if I drink by myself, she is likely to intro- 
 duce you to somebody more gallant." 
 I would rather not," said Meenie. 
 
 "Very well," he said. "You understand why 
 I proposed it, though ? " 
 
 103 
 
when Love Flies 
 
 ^^Oh yes. I know!" 
 
 *'You say that as if she had commented on 
 your abstemiousness already/' 
 
 ''When I came in, she — she complained that 
 last night " 
 
 ''Are you frightened of her?" 
 
 " I think I am. I wasn't at first, but — IVe 
 been through enough to make me frightened." 
 
 "Do tell me." 
 
 "Its a long story ; I daresay you can guess 
 something of it. I thought I was going to sing 
 at concerts, at a kind of — at a kind of second- 
 rate Steinway Hall. I knew it wouldn't be 
 fashionable, of course, because I'm nobody, but 
 I never dreamt of a place like this." 
 
 " But when you arrived ? " 
 
 "I was engaged then; how could I leave? 
 And then she stopped my salary, and " 
 
 " Do you mean you aren't being paid ? " 
 
 "Oh, I don't need money," she said, hot with 
 the sudden fear that he might think she was 
 appealing for assistance. " I mean that — Well, 
 I couldn't go away if I had the fare ; I'm under 
 contract." 
 
 The man muttered something disrespectful to 
 contracts. "If she stopped your salary, how do 
 you live ? " 
 
 104 
 
Out o' the Window 
 
 ''Vm in apartments." 
 Do the people trust you ? " 
 — e — s/' she said; ''you see, they know 
 
 her." 
 
 ''The recommendation isn't obvious. I'm im- 
 mensely sorry for you. I think I said so yester- 
 day, but now I mean it much more. Tm going 
 to help you." 
 
 She caught her breath. 
 
 "I'm going to help you; I'll be d — dashed if 
 you shall stop in a den like this. Look here, 
 you must take some money." 
 
 "That's impossible," she said; ''you must 
 know it is." 
 
 " I don't know anything of the kind. Don't 
 you believe I mean well to you ? " 
 
 It isn't a question of my believing in you. If 
 I were willing to take money from any man I 
 met, I shouldn't be worth helping." 
 
 " Do you believe in me ? " he persisted. " Tell 
 me the truth : do you, or don't you ? " 
 
 " I don't know," she stammered. 
 
 There was a slight pause. 
 'Ay, there's the rub ! ' " said the man at last. 
 '' Naturally you don^. You would be a fool if you 
 did — or else gifted with phenomenal perception. 
 Well my child, I shan't ask for your confidence 
 
 105 
 
when Love Flies 
 
 — rm going to pack you straight back to Eng- 
 land. How much do you want to take you 
 away? I mean it: Tm going to give it to you. 
 It's a frank offer — give me a frank answer. You 
 shall have what you want before you leave the 
 table ; and then we'll say ' Good-night ' and 
 * Good-bye.'" 
 
 She sat quivering. Her need of the money 
 was desperate, and her instinct told her that it 
 could be taken safely. She argued that she 
 might repay it — that it would be merely a loan 
 — but she was a chorus girl only inasmuch as 
 she had been two years in the chorus ; accept- 
 ance was horribly difficult to her. 
 
 I can't," she gulped before she knew that she 
 was going to refuse. 
 
 ''You had better think twice," he said. ''Of 
 course, I appreciate your feelings, but I'm quite 
 sure you are being very unwise, and that you'll 
 repent it." 
 
 She was already fearing the same thing ; if it 
 had not been so hard to say, she would have 
 owned it. While she hesitated, she saw that 
 Madame Le Beau was beckoning- to her. He 
 
 <!_) 
 
 saw it too, and he thought the English girl's 
 submission to that peremptory signal as ugly a 
 sight as his experience had provided. 
 
 1 06 
 
Out o' the Window 
 
 From his chair he could observe what followed 
 perfectly. She appeared to be given some in- 
 structions, and to demur. The woman insisted. 
 In a few seconds they were joined by the 
 manager, and the girl was led to a table near 
 the entrance, where two young men were drink- 
 ing champagne. Champagne seldom flowed 
 here ; evidently customers to be conciliated ! 
 The man who was watching began to gnaw his 
 moustache, and he lit a cigarette with a hand 
 that shook a little. His hands always shook 
 when he was angry ; it was a constitutional de- 
 fect to which he objected very much, because 
 it often conveyed the impression that he was 
 afraid. 
 
 He saw her decline the glass that was pressed 
 upon her ; her companions expostulated freely. 
 Their voices were indistinguishable — drowned by 
 the piano and the general hum ; he did not know 
 if they were speaking French or English, but it 
 was clear they were intoxicated, and that the girl 
 was painfully confused. Only he and the couple 
 in authority were attending to the scene, and he 
 noted their impatient gestures as she shook her 
 head. 
 
 Suddenly — his gaze had scarcely reverted to 
 her when it happened — she was wrestling in an 
 
 107 
 
When Love Flies 
 
 embrace ; she sprang to her feet with a half-cry ; 
 and her employers were at her side, upbraiding, 
 gesticulating, commanding her compliance. He 
 leapt up and strode towards her, no longer con- 
 sidering whether he made himself conspicuous or 
 not. 
 
 Mad moiselle, vous etes vraiment trop prude, 
 Ze gentlemen mean you no arm ! 
 
 ''Mais cest idiot exclaimed the manageress. 
 ''fen ai assez a la fin, Voyons ! " 
 
 ''Go and put on your things,'' he said firmly ; 
 ''you're coming out of this hole now, and you 
 aren't coming back again." He turned to Le 
 Beau. " You tallow-faced scoundrel, give her 
 the key of the dressing-room, or Til break your 
 blasted neck ! " 
 
 "Mais msieu^ msieUy msieuf' screamed the 
 woman. 
 
 The singer stopped, and the audience, starting 
 from their places, listened eagerly. Those who 
 were unable to obtain a view across the heads 
 and hats jumped onto the tables and the chairs. 
 The only spectators who displayed no interest in 
 the disturbance were the two who had caused it. 
 After a stare of dismay, they continued to sip 
 their champagne with drunken solemnity. 
 
 Meenie had clutched the man s arm. He saw 
 
 io8 
 
Out o' the Window 
 
 that their best plan was to gain the street while 
 the proprietors stood confident in the possession 
 of her clothes. 
 
 " Quick ! he whispered ; come as you are ! " 
 
 But Le Beau anticipated the manoeuvre, and 
 darted forward. 
 
 ''J' at son contrat, msieu,'' he exclaimed, ''son 
 contrat signS ! 
 
 Will you let me pass ? 
 
 Pas moyen, msieu^ pas moyen ! " 
 
 The pallid fat face with its air of defiance 
 exasperated the man hugely ; besides, he was in 
 a hurry. He took the shortest course without a 
 moment s hesitation, and pulled the door open as 
 Le Beau sprawled on the floor. 
 
 109 
 
CHAPTER X 
 
 AN you run ? " he asked, as their feet 
 
 disappear as fast as we can ; I don't see a cab." 
 
 She was afraid she couldn't run, but she kept 
 pace with him for a few yards as best she could, 
 though her heart was pounding furiously, and 
 her legs felt strangely unreliable. A thin stream 
 of masqueraders from the Moulin Rouge trickled 
 along the boulevard, and he dodged across the 
 road with her into their midst, where she cut 
 less remarkable a figure. In la Place Pigalle 
 a cab had just deposited a fare. He hailed it 
 promptly ; and as she sank inside, it occurred 
 to him for the first time that he didn't know 
 where to take her. 
 
 Rue de T Arcade ! " he said, and as they 
 rattled down the slope he turned and looked at 
 her. 
 
 ''I'm afraid you must be awfully cold ? " 
 No," she panted, I'm not a bit." She was 
 out of breath, excitement glowed in her cheeks, 
 
 touched the pavement ; 
 
 we'd better 
 
 110 
 
when Love Flies Out o' the Window 
 
 and her eyes shone through the dusk, wide with 
 gratitude. 
 
 He laughed. ''It has been rather amusing! 
 You were a good little girl to do just as I told 
 you. If you hadn't, we should have been there 
 now. I say, how much do these people know 
 your landlady ? Will they send round to her 
 to-night ? " 
 
 I don't think so," she faltered. 
 Suppose they do — on the off chance of your 
 being there ? I think I must take charge of you 
 till the morning." 
 
 She shivered, and the hands lying in the satin 
 lap were restless. 
 
 You are cold," he said, bending to her. 
 No," she said huskily. . . . I would rather 
 go back to the lodgings, thank you ; I can stay 
 there till to-morrow." 
 
 " How can you be sure, now ? " 
 
 ''They told me so," she murmured. 
 
 '' They told you that you could stay there till 
 to-morrow? Do you mean that to-morrow you 
 had to clear out, anyhow ? " 
 
 "Yes," she owned, " if I couldn't pay." 
 
 "You poor little soul! No, no — I take it 
 back. Without any wish to wound your feelings, 
 you're a dear little fool. You don't deserve to be 
 
 III 
 
when Love Flies 
 
 pitied ; I sternly refuse to pity you. You must 
 have been an idiot to say * no ' to the money I 
 offered you. How could you do it ? " 
 
 ''I think I was going to say 'yes,' after all/' 
 she said diffidently. 
 
 Mitigating circumstances ; but never call 
 yourself a sensible woman when you grow up — 
 there are follies one can't outlive. And, after 
 this, you propose to try to sleep there again, 
 do you? Good Lord! Look here, I'm staying 
 at an hotel ; I'll have a talk to the manageress, 
 and she shall find you a room for to-night. 
 After breakfast I'll get your belongings for you, 
 and in the evening you shall depart for the white 
 cliffs of Albion by the 'cheap and picturesque 
 route.' How does that suit you? Are your 
 troubles over ? " 
 
 She put out her hand, and smiled up at him 
 with tears in her eyes ; 
 
 I shall never forget your goodness to me 
 as long as I live ! " 
 
 '*Oh, rot!" he replied, less fluent because he 
 was touched. Give me the address, and tell 
 me as exactly as you can how much you owe." 
 He pencilled the information on his shirt cuff, 
 and as they entered la Rue de I'Arcade shouted 
 to the driver where to stop. You had better 
 
 112 
 
Out o' the Window 
 
 wait in the cab a minute," he said, as it jerked 
 to a standstill ; I'll come out for you as soon 
 as IVe explained things ; I shan't be long." 
 
 He was longer than he expected, for the 
 manageress had retired for the night, and he 
 was left to contemplate the staircase while the 
 porter went to summon her. When she de- 
 scended, it was necessary to apologise for 
 disturbing her repose : only the exigencies of 
 the situation had emboldened him to commit 
 such an atrocity. Outside was a girl, a young 
 lady, a compatriot whose ignorance of the world 
 had placed her in a most dangerous position. 
 She was homeless, and still attired in the some- 
 what exiguous costume in which she had been 
 — er — as a matter of fact, rescued! He began 
 to feel like the hero of a novelette. If Madame 
 Lahille would have the kindness ? 
 
 Madame Lahille overflowed with sympathy. 
 Alas, such dangers were met with only too often 
 in Paris! In London no doubt the same. It 
 was unfortunate that a poor girl seldom found 
 a protector so chivalrous. The lament was 
 emphasised by a gesture of pious admiration, 
 and he reflected that it only remained for Miss 
 Meenie Weston to call him 'My preserver,' to 
 make him ashamed of the whole episode. 
 H 113 
 
when Love Flies 
 
 However, this exchange of civilities was 
 occupying precious time, and the girl remained 
 with a bare neck in the cab while an east wind 
 was blowing. 
 
 Madame can place a room at her disposal ? 
 he inquired. 
 
 Yes, madame had by singular good luck a 
 vacant room on the fourth floor. 
 
 ''And a cloak to conceal the costume? The 
 young lady would naturally be reluctant " 
 
 She departed in quest of the cloak, and when 
 it was forthcoming he brought Meenie into the 
 hall. Madame Lahille herself conducted her 
 upstairs, rejoining her, after about ten minutes, 
 with a glass of steaming claret, and a nightdress 
 which was much too large. Clothed in the 
 capacious garment, the girl sat up in bed, sipping 
 the hot wine, and thinking of the man whose 
 name she did not know. She wanted to cry, 
 though it was now her happiest night in Paris. 
 And then, as the wine stole through her veins, 
 and the strange high bed grew friendly, her 
 emotions yielded to a sense of delicious quietude. 
 She did not question what London held for her ; 
 her contentment was too deep for that. She 
 was free! The consciousness was a lullaby. 
 ''Are your troubles over " he had said. Oh, 
 
 114 
 
Out o' the Window 
 
 he had been good to her, good! She would 
 make him tell her precisely what she had cost 
 him, and directly she had saved it, she would 
 send the money back. It would be lovely to 
 write that letter! She blew out the candle, and 
 wondered who he was, and what he did, and if 
 he could afford to lend her the money ; he didn't 
 look rich, he only looked clever, and strong, and 
 nice. How hard he could hit! She wondered 
 whether she would ever meet him again in 
 England, and while she wondered she fell asleep. 
 
 Fortunately the room was not in the front of 
 the house, or she would not have slept for long. 
 She came back from dreamland to receive a 
 message from him in the broken English of the 
 chambermaid. The monsieur had said that 
 Mad moiselle's bagage would arrive within an 
 hour. As soon as it came it should be brought 
 up to Mad moiselle, and then Monsieur would 
 await her in the salon. 
 
 Sunshine lit the room gaily, and the chocolate 
 and petits pains were better than at the Mont- 
 jous . It was pleasant to nestle so ; she aban- 
 doned herself to the delight of knowing that 
 for once responsibility had been lifted from her 
 shoulders ; the sensation was exquisitely new to 
 her. She had not been able to fold her hands 
 
 115 
 
'When Love Flies 
 
 in confidence since her mother died. She could 
 have said, with Dumas fils, My father was a 
 child that I had when I was young." 
 
 A slow smile dimpled her face as the heavy 
 ascent of the porter reached her ears. He had 
 no sooner closed the door than she sprang out 
 of bed, and made the best toilette that the con- 
 tents of her trunk permitted. She had hidden 
 the costume in the wardrobe, and now she took 
 it down and stuffed it in the box. She needed 
 badly the things that had been left at the 
 cabaret, especially the jacket, and would have 
 much liked to effect an exchange. It must be 
 chronicled that she lingered before the glass 
 longer than was her custom, and although her 
 vanity was not above the average, she put on 
 a crepon blouse, instead of a warm one, because 
 it suited her better. 
 
 The monsieur greeted her in the salon, faithful 
 to his word ; she was glad that she had been 
 firm with herself about the blouse as he looked 
 at her. 
 
 I needn't ask if you've slept well," he said ; 
 ''your face proclaims it. Were your things all 
 there ? " 
 
 ''Yes — everything, I think. I do hope you 
 know how immensely grateful I am ! I suppose 
 
 ii6 
 
Out o' the Window 
 
 you had to pay more than was fair ; will you let 
 me have the bill, please ? " 
 
 Here it is, duly receipted. They're charming 
 people — I can quite understand your reluctance 
 to leave them. They knew all about the row, 
 of course, and pretended to know nothing. They 
 were so sorry to part with you that they wanted 
 another week's rent in lieu of notice ; it was 
 fortunate you told me that they were turning you 
 out. But behold, the affair is finished ! Let us 
 forget it, and be merry. Let us eat and drink, 
 for this evening you go. Come out to lunch ! " 
 
 It was as yet too early to lunch, but that was 
 no reason why they should remain in the hotel. 
 Of a truth the little salon was somewhat cheer- 
 less, with its faded furniture, its bare table, and 
 an album of Swiss views. When she reappeared, 
 with a hat and gloves on, they sauntered towards 
 the boulevards in good spirits. He was ex- 
 hilarated in reflecting that the morning had 
 brought no disenchantment ; it was the first time 
 he had seen her clothed like a Christian, and he 
 approved the difference. 
 
 Now I come to think of it," he said, ''we 
 have never been introduced. It's not a matter 
 of thrilling interest, but my name is Lingham — 
 Ralph Lingham." He pronounced it Rafe." 
 
 117 
 
when Love Flies 
 
 I am glad to know your name," she said ; 
 ' ' I was going to ask you what it was before 
 I went. Do you live in Paris ? " 
 
 *^ Yes ; that is to say, Tm going to. I have 
 only been here a week or so, but I hope to be 
 a fixture. Where do you live ? London ? " 
 
 I always stay in London between the engage- 
 ments ; of course, when Tm lucky Tm on tour." 
 
 Why ? Is it easier to get engagements for a 
 tour than for town ? " 
 
 IVe nearly always found it so. Tm only in 
 the chorus, you know, and I take what is offered." 
 
 ''You took what was offered once too often," 
 he said. Haven't you any people to look after 
 you ? 
 
 ''I lost my father before I went on the stage. 
 No, I have no relations that I ever see. One 
 gets used to it, you know. It was awful at first, 
 but when I'm on tour, and the salary is all right, 
 it isn't so lonely as you'd think. Some of the 
 girls are generally nice, and one usually finds a 
 chum ; two girls live together every week, and 
 halve the rent and the housekeeping expenses, 
 and — if it's a deluge — the cost of a cab to the 
 station on Sunday morning. It comes out much 
 cheaper that way, too." 
 
 ''And if it's not a deluge, how do you get to 
 ii8 
 
Out o' the Window 
 
 the station then ? Walk, with your trunk on 
 your back ? " 
 
 ''Oh, the baggage-man collects the girls' 
 luggage the night before ; we have only light 
 things to carry. If we took cabs regularly we 
 should be ruined. Of course, if you happen to 
 get in just when the people are coming out of 
 church, it isn't pleasant tramping through a town 
 with a rug and a bag in your hands. That s 
 horrid ! You do feel such a mummer, so ashamed 
 of yourself ! " 
 
 ''Good,'' he said, " I like that." 
 
 " You would like it ? " 
 
 '' I mean I like the idea. I see it. The smuof 
 provincials in their Sunday black, and the tired 
 little actress lugging a portmanteau through the 
 High Street. Well, tell me more." 
 
 " There isn't any more to tell," she laughed, 
 "except that sometimes, when you're very foolish, 
 and the stage manager has bullied you, or a girl 
 who has the honour of a single line all to herself 
 has sneered at you as 'one of the chorus,' you 
 dream dreams." 
 
 "Oho," said Lingham, "you dream dreams, 
 do you? This grows interesting. 'For I, too, 
 have known my dreams ! ' What are they ? " 
 
 "Mine? Oh, well, for five minutes I imagine 
 119 
 
when Love Flies 
 
 myself springing into a big part, and getting 
 tremendous notices, and heaping coals of fire on 
 my enemies' heads. Its quite exciting while it 
 lasts, almost as good as the real thing! All the 
 people are so fond of me, and so crushed to 
 remember that they were ever unkind. But I 
 don't really expect to get on any more ; all that 
 is over." 
 
 ''Vanished with your youth?" he asked. 
 '' Why not, for goodness' sake, why shouldn't 
 you get on ? You've a sweetly pretty voice." 
 
 She sighed. No, I shall never get on, and 
 it wouldn't satisfy me if I did. I wanted to do 
 serious work, and that's impossible. Naturally 
 I should be very glad to ' arrive ' — I should be 
 delighted — but the success wouldn't be so dear 
 to me as if I sang good music." She pointed 
 to the Opera House. Once upon a time I saw 
 myself there, and — Well, you know where you 
 found me ! " 
 
 ''I'm very glad I did find you. By the way, 
 how about the clothes you left behind ? What 
 were they ? " 
 
 "Oh, a dress," she said, "and a toque, and^ — 
 and a jacket." 
 
 Don't you want them ? " 
 
 "Well, the dress had seen its best days, and 
 1 20 
 
Out o' the Window 
 
 the toque wasn't worth anything. I should like 
 the jacket, though, if you think it could be got." 
 
 Benighted man awoke to the fact that she was 
 jacketless. If he piqued himself on anything, it 
 was on his closeness of observation. His chagrin 
 was severe, and his Scotch tweed became on the 
 instant a burden and a reproach. 
 
 ''Why, what have I been thinking of.^" he ex- 
 claimed. ''You must be frozen. Now I notice 
 it, that thing you have on is positively flapping ; 
 we must get another jacket at once ! " He looked 
 agitatedly at a confectioner's. Where is there 
 a shop where they sell such things ? " 
 
 "What an idea!" she returned. "It isn't 
 necessary at all. As a matter of fact " — it cost 
 her something to make the admission — " I have 
 a much warmer blouse at the hotel ; I have heaps 
 and heaps of clothes. Please come on." 
 
 ''I must really insist," said Lingham. ''You 
 can pay me back, you know. I think you are in 
 a position to afford a jacket. It is your own 
 money, and you can afford it ; you mustn't be 
 mean. I beg you now — oblige me." 
 
 He would talk of nothing else, and the har- 
 mony of the morning seemed to be in grievous 
 peril. At last she consented, on the understand- 
 ing that he would render her a faithful account of 
 
 121 
 
when Love Flies 
 
 her indebtedness to him before they parted, and — 
 fleeing from the boulevards as from a plague — she 
 led him to the Printemps," where a fool of an 
 assistant took her for his wife. 
 
 Though this mistake was productive of mo- 
 mentary embarrassment, their visit to the 
 
 Printemps was, to Lingham at least, singularly 
 charming. Nor was the charm less because their 
 compact debarred him from obtruding his advice. 
 Her economy was invincible, and the frowns with 
 which she rebuked his tentative temptations added 
 a zest to the whole thing. I shall never be 
 shown anything moderate/' she whispered to him 
 once. Your expression as you sit there is 
 simply fatal.'' Then, too, when she had had 
 her way, and some cheaper jackets had been dis- 
 played, it was delightful to have her turn to him 
 in a captivating bargain with a curved collar, and 
 say, What do you think ? " He found it so 
 delightful that he immediately suggested she 
 should try on another. He had never spent 
 forty-five francs with greater satisfaction than 
 when they turned into the street again ; but she 
 insisted on putting the bill into one of the smart 
 little pockets, and vowed that she would keep it 
 there till she had been honest. 
 
 It was now nearly one o'clock, so they pro- 
 
 122 
 
Out o' the Window 
 
 ceeded to a restaurant. It was not a fashion- 
 able restaurant, for he was neither a rich man 
 nor a fool, although in the pursuit of know- 
 ledge he had invited her to Marguery s. He 
 took her to a small, and rather shabby, estab- 
 lishment to which few foreigners found their way. 
 Here they secured a table to themselves, and after 
 the sauterne was uncorked, he said — 
 
 I propose to make a daring experiment ; I'm 
 going to try to renew an emotion. The last 
 time I was in Paris I was brought to this place 
 and introduced to quenelles with a pink sauce. 
 Years have passed, but I have never forgotten 
 that pink sauce. We are about to meet again. 
 It is a solemn moment.'' 
 
 When the waiter came back, both were silent. 
 The sauce was thick, like warm cream, and the 
 soft little balls had the appearance of miniature 
 dumplings. She broke one diffidently, and raised 
 the fork to her mouth, her companion watching 
 her in suspense. The cream clung to her lips, 
 and the tip of her tongue did the duty of a 
 serviette. Her eyes smiled. A ripple of en- 
 joyment curved her fair cheeks, and — her head 
 tilted — she gave him a slow nod. 
 
 I think so too,'' he said ; I think my youth- 
 ful homage was fully justified, eh 
 
 123 
 
when Love Flies 
 
 ''The daring experiment is a brilliant 
 triumph ! " declared Meenie. Do you often 
 try to renew emotions ? 
 
 ''Long ago," he replied, "before my infatuation 
 for the pink sauce, I was infatuated by a lady. 
 When I bade her ' good-bye ' with a bursting 
 heart, I ventured to hope that one day I might 
 see her again. She was a lady in your profession, 
 and she said, ' I have never found a Revival a 
 success.' Experience has taught me to appreciate 
 her philosophy. The quenelles have been the 
 exception that proves the rule. Let me give 
 you some more of the sauce, and use your bread 
 when the paste has gone.'' 
 
 She had never sat so long at a meal in her 
 life, for they lingered quite half an hour over 
 the fruit and coffee. He mentioned casually that 
 some of the habitues were men whose names 
 were familiar to her, and though he wasn't able 
 to identify them, the knowledge that celebrities 
 came here communicated to several commercial 
 gentlemen in the room an instant fascination. 
 She was sorry when there was no excuse for 
 remaining longer in this enchanted spot where 
 luncheons were poetised, and poets lunched ; but 
 he had finished his liqueur, and she dared not 
 take one herself. Fearful of being a nuisance 
 
 124 
 
Out o' the Window 
 
 as well as an expense, she asked him now if he 
 had no business to attend to, and if she had not 
 better make her way back to the hotel alone. 
 He assured her that he should only do his work 
 in the evening after she had gone, and he looked 
 so crestfallen at the inquiry that it was evident 
 he had had other views. 
 
 ''What I was going to suggest,'' he explained, 
 ''was that you should go back and put on that 
 warmer blouse, and come for a drive. Your 
 train goes at nine o'clock, so we have at least 
 six hours. Why spend them in yawning at Swiss 
 photographs in the salon ? We'll go for a drive, 
 and have tea at Neal's, and I'll get you some 
 English papers to amuse you on the boat in case 
 you can't sleep. Don't spoil a pleasant pro- 
 gramme. Come ! " 
 
 125 
 
CHAPTER XI 
 
 T T AVE you been here before?" he asked, 
 
 JL A as they rolled into the Avenue du Bois. 
 
 Have you seen much of Paris ? " 
 
 I've never been so far as this/' she answered 
 happily; ''when I got to the Arc de Triomphe 
 I turned back. Don't laugh at my accent. I 
 used to go for a walk every afternoon, though — 
 all sorts of places ! When I came to the name 
 of a street that I'd met in books, I stood and 
 thrilled at it. And I asked the way to the Pont 
 Neuf, because I knew 'Henri Quatre est sur le 
 Pont Neuf: Athos told D'Artagnan, didn't he 
 Or somebody said it in Eugene Sue ? Any- 
 how, I knew it was an equivalent for ' Queen 
 Anne is dead ' when I was a child, and it seemed 
 wonderful to go and prove it a solid fact." 
 
 You're a very nice girl," he said ; ''I've done 
 that sort of thing myself so often ! " 
 
 " Isn't it rapturous ? I don't think any city 
 would be so exciting to me as Paris, just because 
 I should never come across familiar names in 
 any other. When I was at home — I mean when 
 
 126 
 
when Love Flies Out the Window 
 
 my father was alive — I had a girl come to stay 
 with me from the country. It was her first visit 
 to London ; and I took her out and showed her 
 Hertford House, which was Lord Steynes in 
 Vanity Fair^ you know, and the fountain in the 
 Temple that they came to in Martin Chuzzlewit, 
 and the two-pair-back in Brick Court where 
 Oliver Goldsmith's laundress found him dead in 
 the morning. Well, she had lived in a village 
 all her life, and read nothing. My information 
 left her absolutely wooden, for she had never 
 heard of one of the people I was talking about. 
 It would be just the same with me if I went to 
 Berlin or St. Petersburg.'' 
 
 I can't imagine you ' wooden ' in any circum- 
 stances," said Lingham. ''A girl in your situation 
 here, who could go out and thrill at a statue " 
 
 ''Oh, well, but I had to do something, you 
 know," she interposed. I should have gone 
 mad if I'd sat in my room all day thinking. I 
 didn't even have anything to read." 
 
 You are fond of reading, eh ? " he said. 
 ''What do you read " 
 
 " I have read very little. At home we had a 
 dilapidated collection of the novelists that every- 
 body knows, but since I've been alone I have 
 scarcely seen a book. Sometimes on tour I find 
 
 127 
 
when Love Flies 
 
 a circulating library, but they generally want a 
 half-crown deposit, and half-crowns don't lie 
 about 'promiscuous/ Do you read novels?" 
 
 *'Yes," he said. He hesitated a little. ''I 
 suppose everybody takes an interest in his own 
 business. I write 'em." 
 
 ''You are an author?" exclaimed Meenie. 
 Really ? I wondered what you did. Do you 
 write as ' Ralph Lingham ' ? " 
 
 ''Oh yes. But pray don't run away with the 
 idea that I'm a famous person. You are not 
 likely to get any of my books at the circulating 
 libraries next time you're on tour, even if there's 
 an available half-crown. You are talking to an 
 able-bodied failure." 
 
 " I wondered what you did," she said again. 
 " I thought perhaps you were a journalist." 
 
 "Well, just now I'm a journalist too — of sorts. 
 It's journalism that has brought me to Paris. 
 What made you guess it?" 
 
 "Something you said in the cabaret. You 
 asked me about Madame Le Beau, and said the 
 details might be useful to you one day." 
 
 "Ah," he replied, " I was thinking of a novel 
 then. It struck me that the experiences of a 
 girl like you in a place like that would be worth 
 treating. How did you come there? Was it 
 through an advertisement, or what ? " 
 
 128 
 
Out o' the Window 
 
 " I was engaged by an agent," she said. 
 
 ''What, a regular theatrical agent?" 
 No, not an agent who is known at all. But, 
 of course, there are plenty of little agencies one 
 hasn't heard of — I took it for granted he was all 
 right. I was at Potter's one day, and a woman 
 spoke to me. You know girls often speak to one 
 another while they're waiting. She told me that 
 she might be coming too, and that there were 
 vacancies. I went over to his office with her, and 
 was engaged to leave the next evening." 
 
 '' Humph," he said. ''And she didn't come too ? " 
 
 "No, she couldn't get out of an engagement 
 that she had made for the provinces. It was a 
 good thing for her ! " 
 
 His eyebrows rose. " I shouldn't act on 
 another of that woman's suggestions if I were 
 you. She probably never meant to come. Hasn't 
 it occurred to you yet that she was working for 
 the man ? " 
 
 " I must be awfully stupid," said Meenie in 
 a whisper, after a slight pause. " I ought to 
 have thought of that, and I didn't. I wonder 
 if you're wronging her ? " 
 
 " Perhaps I am, but don't give her the benefit 
 of the doubt," he answered sharply. "Don't you 
 see that you invite these catastrophes if you go 
 I 129 
 
when Love Flies 
 
 about London jumping at every stranger s bait ? 
 Before you accept an engagement to sing abroad, 
 you should make inquiries. For a rational being 
 it seems to me your behaviour was the most 
 extraordinary I ever heard of in my life." Solici- 
 tude and rage are contiguous in man ; the thought 
 of the danger she had run boiled in him. 
 
 It was very foolish/' she admitted. 
 
 It wasn't ' foolish/ it was insane. Your in- 
 nocence seems to have been positively Galatean. 
 How on earth a normally sensible girl — you 
 appear to be normally sensible — could placidly 
 place herself in the power of people she knew 
 nothing about, in a country where she couldn't 
 speak the language, at a word from somebody 
 she'd never seen before, is — is — — Well, it 
 beats me ! You aren't fit to be on the stage ; 
 you ought to be in a nursery." 
 
 She did not seek to defend herself, and they 
 leant back in the fiacre in silence, he frowning 
 to the right, and she looking humbly to the left. 
 Presently the horse's head was turned, and they 
 commenced the homeward course. Lingham 
 glanced at her, and saw that she wore the air 
 of a rebuked child. He felt that he had ex- 
 pressed his opinion with more heat than courtesy, 
 but he was still so indignant with her that he 
 
 130 
 
Out o' the Window 
 
 couldn't find it in his heart to confess he was 
 sorry- Compromising with his penitence, he 
 said — 
 
 I wonder why nurses wear such long cap- 
 strings in France ? " 
 
 It s rather quaint," she replied. Perhaps 
 they are for the babies to play with/' 
 
 ''Yes,'' he said, ''I daresay; I didn't think of 
 that. Well, have you enjoyed your drive ? " 
 
 Very much indeed,'' she murmured. *' It has 
 been beautiful." 
 
 I didn't bully you, did I ? " he asked depre- 
 catingly. 
 
 " What you said was quite right ; I must 
 appear a perfect gaby to you. Of course, I did 
 behave in a very guileless fashion. All the same, 
 it wasn't quite so inexcusable as you think ; we 
 girls are used to signing agreements with 
 managers we don't know. If every time an 
 engagement was offered to me I stopped to 
 make inquiries, I should never get one at all. 
 While / was inquiring, it would be given to 
 somebody else." 
 
 '' I understand," said Lingham. But between 
 an opera company playing in the English the- 
 atres and a vague engagement for Paris there is 
 a lot of difference." 
 
 i3t 
 
when Love Flies 
 
 She nodded. Oh yes. Only when you are 
 badly in need of something to do, and the chance 
 is there, you naturally hesitate to lose it. For 
 that is what it would mean in nine cases out of 
 ten if you weren t prompt : you would lose it. 
 I own that it never occurred to me to ask for 
 time to consider, but even if it had, I should 
 have been afraid to do it. Perhaps I should 
 have been more discreet in happier circum- 
 stances, but most people would have leapt at 
 an offer in my place.'* 
 
 You were hard up," he asked, eh ? 
 Hard up ? she echoed. " Yes, I was toler- 
 ably hard up. I had been to the agents' offices 
 every day for months ; I was pretty nearly 
 desperate. When the chance came, I thanked 
 God.'' 
 
 It seems rather worse than being a novelist," 
 he said. Then you lived in lodgings, and were 
 in debt there, too ? " 
 
 No, I wasn't in debt ; I just kept out of that. 
 I pawned things that had belonged to my father, 
 and — and economised." 
 
 Ate too little, I suppose you mean ? What 
 did you have for dinner ? " 
 
 '*Oh, don't be absurd," she said, averting her 
 head. 
 
 132 
 
Out o' the Window 
 
 I asked because I wanted to know. I have 
 dined on tobacco myself, and got up late because 
 bed was cheaper than breakfast ; I wondered 
 whether you could give me any hints. Well, 
 what would you have done if the offer hadn't 
 been made just when it was ? " 
 
 I should have attacked my wardrobe," she 
 answered, *'and pawned a white silk frock.'' 
 
 '•'And when the frock had gone? I'm not an 
 expert, but I take it that even a white silk frock 
 wouldn't have kept you indefinitely." 
 
 I hadn't looked beyond the frock. ... I might 
 have spared a pair of shoes." 
 
 And after the shoes ? The deluge ? " 
 
 I don't know," she said. I should have 
 hoped for dry weather." 
 
 He turned to her with a slight movement of 
 surprise, and then looking away as quickly, sat 
 with furrowed brows. At last he said on high 
 notes — 
 
 But I don't see what you have to expect 
 when you get back ! It seems to me that you'll 
 be in just the same predicament as you were 
 before you came away. Will it be any easier 
 to find an enoraorement now than it was three 
 weeks ago ? " 
 
 I hope so," said Meenie. Of course, the 
 133 
 
when Love Flies 
 
 trouble was that companies aren't sent out during 
 the pantomime season, and the pantomime com- 
 panies were all complete/' 
 
 Well, they're complete still, I suppose ? " he 
 said. The pantomimes haven't begun yet ; 
 how will you be able to wait for them to finish ? 
 I thought that when you were back in London 
 you would be out of the wood, but I — I don't 
 see what service I shall be doing you by sending 
 you home after what you say. Barring miracles, 
 there would be only a white silk frock and a 
 pair of shoes between you and the workhouse." 
 
 She looked at him blankly. 
 
 '^Well, isn't it so?" he said; ^'or haven't I 
 understood you properly ? " 
 
 ''Y-e-s, that's right," she faltered. But it's 
 quite certain I can't stop here. I can't sing 
 French ; there is no likelihood of my finding 
 anything to do in Paris." 
 
 By w^hat you tell me, there is very little like- 
 lihood of your finding anything to do in London. 
 You say you had been out of an engagement 
 for months ; why should you expect to walk into 
 one within a few days of your return ? The only 
 thing that I see before you in London is desti- 
 tution. If you are satisfied to starve, you may 
 as well do it where you are, and avoid the 
 
 134 
 
Out o' the Window 
 
 additional discomfort of a journey on a cold 
 night." 
 
 He folded his arms, and his brow rucked 
 again ; Meenie was thankful that he didn't say 
 any more. He had told her nothing that she 
 had not told herself in moments, even while she 
 was struggling to amass the fare ; nothing that 
 she would not have repeated on the boat. But 
 during the last few hours she had been sanguine ; 
 and now her couragre had all grone. It was 
 quite true ! There were before her the same 
 obstacles that she had , left behind. London had 
 not altered ; the bills would be just as hard to 
 pay, the agents' offices would be just as full ; 
 when she had been back a day, her position 
 would be just as critical. 
 
 After a long silence, she said — 
 Perhaps my accent wouldn't be so much 
 against me in the chorus here, after all ? What 
 do you think ? " 
 
 The cab had stopped, and he rose, and helped 
 her out. While there's tea there's hope," he 
 quoted. Here we are at Neal's ! We'll go 
 upstairs and talk it over." 
 
 But he was not confident of her obtaining an 
 engagement in a Paris theatre ; and at their 
 table in the reading-room, by one of the low, 
 
 135 
 
when Love Flies 
 
 arched windows, they talked for a long time. 
 She was too frank to ignore the fact that, 
 primarily at least, he would feel responsible for 
 her welfare if she remained ; whereas, if she 
 went, his responsibility would be over by night- 
 fall. 
 
 ''You say I may as well starve here as there," 
 she said ; " but you know very well you wouldn't 
 let me starve — at all events, while you were able 
 to prevent it. I should be a regular old man of 
 the sea to you." 
 
 I should do my best to find you bread and 
 butter certainly," admitted Lingham. ''On the 
 other hand, if you went back, I should feel 
 bound to lend you rather more than I could 
 afford. Its really a matter for your own 
 decision ; for God s sake don't think that I'm 
 trying to play Providence to you ! If you w^ant 
 to go, go ; but, as I keep saying, I don't see that 
 you'll be a scrap better off there than here. 
 Now that you're in Paris, why not try to find 
 something to do in Paris ? " 
 
 ^' But you tell me that you don't think I could 
 get into a theatre here ? " 
 
 "Well, put the theatre idea aside; the 
 managers aren't waiting for you on their door- 
 steps in England either. You might get into a 
 
 136 
 
Out o' the Window 
 
 theatre here eventually, but I should imagine it 
 would be very difficult, and I shouldn't say it 
 would be very desirable. I don't see how you 
 are to wait for a theatrical engagement any- 
 where ; if I were you, I should take whatever 
 I could get for the present." 
 
 ^'Washing?'' she asked hopelessly. 
 
 Not necessarily washing. Take — take any- 
 thing to tide you over. You needn't leave the 
 stage for good ; the agents can be written to, 
 I suppose ? When the pantomimes have finished 
 — when there's a chance for you at home — you 
 can throw the work up." 
 
 I'll do anything that is possible," she 
 declared. If I could earn ten shillings a week 
 in Paris, of course it would be better for me than 
 returning to London just now." 
 
 That is precisely my opinion. . . . Very 
 well ! Then it is decided that you don't go 
 to-night ? " 
 
 Yes," she said, it is decided that I don't go." 
 She looked down wonderingly at the street, 
 at the rolling carriages, the movement on the 
 sidewalk opposite. She wasn't going ! It seemed 
 very strange, a little unreal. 
 
 137 
 
CHAPTER XII 
 
 SHE spent the evening in the salon; for 
 company she had a book that he had 
 bought for her before they left the Hbrary. On 
 impulse he had taken up one of his own, and it 
 was no sooner in her hands than he regretted 
 the choice, conscious that if she uttered unintelli- 
 gent criticisms she would destroy a great deal of 
 the interest he was feeling in her. The novel 
 seemed to her now so uncommonly clever that 
 she was diffident of acknowledging to herself 
 how clever she did think it. It was a double 
 pleasure to learn by the page of excerpts which 
 Baron Tauchnitz appended that many of the 
 reviewers shared her opinion. She found this 
 page laurels for her hero s brow, and a feather 
 in her own cap. 
 
 He, meanwhile, was shut in his bedroom, 
 finishing his causerie for The Other Side, a newly 
 established and temerarious journal, for which he 
 was acting as Paris correspondent. A course of 
 newspaper work is the best possible training for 
 a novelist, but novel-writing does little or nothing 
 
 138 
 
when Love Flies Out o' the Window 
 
 to make a newspaper man, and in journalism 
 Lingham found his pen stubborn and his style 
 stiff. Meenie, who sat glowing with admiration 
 of Angela Brown — Publisher, would have mar- 
 velled greatly could she have seen to the third 
 floor, where the author was muttering curses and 
 calling himself an impostor and an ass. 
 
 When he had thrust the copy into an envelope 
 with a final imprecation it was one o'clock. As 
 he smoked his last pipe his mind reverted to the 
 need of obtaining employment for her, and he 
 wondered whether, after all, he had advised her 
 for the best. 
 
 He wanted to place her in a situation without 
 delay — for one reason because he knew she 
 would be distressed if he didn't. He wished 
 that he had more acquaintances in Paris. The 
 right thing for her would be a companion s post : 
 companion to an amiable widow, who was eager 
 to pay somebody to read aloud and feed her 
 canaries. It was a pity that the right thing was 
 always so difficult to find ! He had been looking 
 for the right thing himself for years — ever since 
 he discovered the truth of Scott s dictum that 
 literature made a good cane, but a poor crutch — 
 and the best substitute that he had grasped was 
 this offer of a regular salary from a paper. No, 
 
 139 
 
when Love Flies 
 
 a companions post was the Ideal, a pendant to 
 his own dream of a snug Government appoint- 
 ment. Well, he must think of something that 
 was practicable ; perhaps the New York Herald 
 would send an illuminating beam on the morrow. 
 
 Early in the day they went out together to buy 
 it, and on the way Meenie told him how much 
 she had enjoyed the book. He had an unap- 
 peasable appetite for praise in print, and a horror 
 of it by word of mouth, but his fear that she 
 would be stupid was short-lived, and he soon 
 found himself answering her as freely as if she 
 had been a fellow-craftsman. It was not until 
 they had glanced at the Herald that silence fell 
 between them. He saw that the disappointment 
 had depressed her. 
 
 At last he said — 
 
 ^^ril tell you what I'll do. I'll look up an 
 artist that I know here ; she is a cousin of mine. 
 Perhaps you wouldn't mind sitting to her in 
 costume, if she wants a model ? You might be 
 'The Queen of the May, mother,' or * Coming 
 through the Rye.' I don't know what they pay 
 for that kind of thing, but I suppose it would 
 mean a franc or two an hour. What do you 
 say ? " 
 
 I should be very much obliged to you." 
 140 
 
Out o' the Window 
 
 *'A1I right, ril go this afternoon. Mind, it is 
 very tiring work ! " 
 
 ^'Oh, that doesn't matter a bit. If she will 
 take me, I shall be only too glad. Why didn't 
 you propose it before ? " 
 
 I wanted to get you something better. Still, 
 we can watch the advertisements, and you might 
 go as model to her temporarily. On the whole, 
 it isn't a bad idea." 
 
 He knew that his cousin was staying some- 
 where in the Latin Quarter, and when he had 
 found his note of her address he tramped over 
 there. His conscience pricked him that he had 
 not called on her when he arrived, for she was a 
 very nice girl, and although they seldom saw 
 each other, and never corresponded, they were 
 always good friends when they met. 
 
 Georgina Blair was much younger than he, not 
 three-and-twenty yet. When she was a child 
 she said she wanted to be an artist — meaning a 
 painter — and her mother smiled. Children always 
 want to be funny things ; sometimes they want to 
 be circus-riders. When she was seventeen she 
 said it again, more firmly, and her mother 
 screamed. Mrs. Blair had two thousand a year, 
 and a carriage with a crest on it. (''But you will 
 not put your name, which is mine too, on the covers 
 
 141 
 
when Love Flies 
 
 of printed books ? " cried George Sand s mother- 
 in-law.) Every artist has obstacles to vanquish ; 
 the two thousand a year and the crest had been 
 Miss Blair s. Nor were they a whit less formid- 
 able than the impediments which lend themselves 
 to more sympathetic treatment in biographies. 
 Yet she had surmounted them, and without 
 brutality. To an art class — meaning a school 
 for painting — in Newman Street, to the British 
 Museum, and to the National " had she wooed 
 her way by turn, and now, culminating triumph, 
 she had reached the Quartier Latin. In remem- 
 bering these things Lingham reached it also, and 
 after several inquiries, discovered the Pension de 
 Famille that sheltered her. 
 It was not imposing. 
 
 Yes, a nice girl, a decidedly nice girl ! He 
 would have said it as soon as she entered, even 
 if he had not said it before. She had honest 
 brown eyes, and a frank hand-clasp, and a mouth 
 that was strong enough to be admirable, and not 
 too firm to be sweet. 
 
 Halloa, Ralph ! " she said ; ''so you have 
 found me ! The mater wrote me you were 
 in Paris. IVe been afraid you would call when 
 I was out. Put your hat away, and tell me all 
 the news. If you sit down on that chair very 
 
 142 
 
Out o' the Window 
 
 carefully, it won't break. What is this thing you 
 have dropped into, eh ? ' Paris correspondent ' 
 sounds very fine." 
 
 It sounds finer than it is in my case," he 
 answered. Still, two guineas a week is some- 
 thing." 
 
 It is immense," she said sincerely. I have 
 never earned two guineas in a year. You have 
 always needed a salary from somewhere to enable 
 you to write in peace, haven t you? And when 
 have you another book coming out ? " 
 
 In the spring. IVe just placed it, and 
 had a hundred pounds on account of royalties. 
 Altogether I am dazed by my own wealth ! 
 Really, though, I begin to see my way, now 
 that IVe got this job on The Other Side, My 
 journalism is rather like an omelette made by a 
 plain cook as yet, but my hand will get lighter 
 with practice." 
 
 ''And the book," inquired Miss Blair, ''is 
 that good ? " 
 
 " Yes, I think it is all right. There are one 
 or two original features in it. I have a Jew 
 who is neither a money-lender nor an ' old-clo' ' 
 man. And he can pronounce his w's, and talks 
 quite like all the Jews one ever meets. He'll be 
 a new type in fiction." 
 
 143 
 
when Love Flies 
 
 She smiled. Where are you living ? 
 
 " Tm at a little hotel in the Rue de 1' Arcade ; 
 but I am going to move. I only went there 
 while I looked about me. Well, how are you 
 getting on ? You are not over here by your- 
 self, are you — or has the emancipation reached 
 even that stage ? " 
 
 Not quite. I came over with a girl I used 
 to know at Heatherley's. The mater approves 
 of her, and we chaperon each other." 
 And the work ? 
 
 She ran her fingers through her fringe and 
 frowned. 
 
 ''So so. Tm pegging away, and I think I 
 know more than I did. But so many people 
 have talent — it s very discouraging. Perhaps I 
 shall do something decent in twenty years.". 
 
 ^''Thems my sentiments,''' said Lingham. 
 ''And I can't afford to wait twenty years. In 
 twenty years I shall be fifty-five." 
 
 "Oh, you!" she laughed. "You are 'made.' 
 The public have never heard of me. If the 
 critics wrote about me as they do about you, I 
 should be a happy woman." 
 
 " Because recognition is all you need ; / need 
 money as well. Heaven knows I don't under- 
 value the criticisms IVe had, but I want some- 
 
 144 
 
Out o' the Window 
 
 thing substantial too. It is easier for a writer 
 with scruples to get fine criticisms than to get a 
 living, take my word for it. Hence the job on 
 the paper. I say, Georgie ! " 
 What ? 
 
 I want you to do something for me." 
 
 ''And hence this visit ! " she exclaimed. 
 
 *' Not altogether/' said Lingham ; and then he 
 told her the circumstances. 
 
 She listened at first with evident amusement ; 
 but as the seriousness of the situation became 
 clear to her, the smile faded, and she ran her 
 fingers through her fringe more than once. 
 When he made his request that she would give 
 Meenie employment as a model, her gesture told 
 him that the plan was hopeless before she spoke. 
 
 "My dear Ralph," she said, ''I don't employ 
 models. You want a full-blown artist, not a 
 student; Tm at Colarossis. I'd do it with 
 pleasure if I were able, but I couldn't have a 
 model here even if I wanted one. If there is 
 anything else " 
 
 ''She doesn't require a fiver," he said; '' I 
 mean she wouldn't accept it. She is — it sounds, 
 of course, very improbable after the story of 
 how I met her — she is a lady. I know / 
 shouldn't believe it either if somebody told me 
 K 145 
 
when Love Flies 
 
 the story. It s one of those things that nobody 
 ever believes unless it happens to himself." 
 
 ''I, at least, don't disbelieve it/* she replied. 
 ''On the contrary, Tm very interested. I should 
 like to come to the rescue. I wonder if she 
 would be of any use to Madame Pigeonneau." 
 
 I wouldn't allow her to go sitting to any- 
 body and everybody," he answered quickly. I 
 shouldn't have suggested her becoming a model 
 at all if it hadn't been that I thought she could 
 come to you." 
 
 '' Madame Pigeonneau," explained Miss Blair, 
 isn't an artist ; she keeps this pension. She is 
 an invalid, and her daughter, who used to look 
 after things, has just married. I know the old 
 lady wants somebody to help her now. Does the 
 girl speak French ? " 
 
 ''Not a syllable," said Lingham. "She doesn't 
 even think she does." 
 
 " That's a pity." 
 
 " I suppose it's a fatal objection ? " 
 
 " It's a drawback, but, after all, if she is intelli- 
 gent — Madame Pigeonneau speaks English a 
 little. It's an English house, you know, and 
 there are only eight of us here — all budding 
 geniuses from perfidious Albion or America. 
 I'll talk to her if you like, and let you know what 
 
 146 
 
Out o' the Window 
 
 she says. I don't suppose the salary would be 
 much — the establishment is on a very modest 
 scale altogether — but the place would be comfort- 
 able, and more homelike than any other that you 
 are likely to find." 
 
 It looked to Lingham so desirable a solution 
 of the difficulty that he begged her to use all her 
 influence to compass it, and she promised to post 
 a line to him in the evening to say whether she 
 had succeeded or not. 
 
 Of course, when he returned to the hotel he 
 told Meenie that they mustn't build on success, 
 but there was none the less a prospect, and it 
 was pleasant to discuss. On the other hand, she 
 turned very pale the next morning when he 
 showed her a letter making an appointment for 
 her to call. Her eagerness to secure the position 
 had not abated during the night, but she trembled 
 now at the thought of coming back with the news 
 that she had failed. It had been bad enough to 
 fail at the agents' offices when she was paying 
 her own expenses ; to-day, when they were being 
 paid by somebody else, she felt that a rejection 
 would be bitterer still. She admitted something 
 of the sort. 
 
 If she doesn't take me, I shall never have 
 the courage to come back and tell you so," she 
 
 147 
 
when Love Flies 
 
 said. ''And I don't suppose for a second that she 
 will ! I am so used to being disappointed that 
 I apply for things with a disappointed look. 
 Before I go in I try to conjure up a sunny ex- 
 pression, but a long course of the dramatic agents 
 has done its fatal work, and my face feels stiff." 
 
 ^'I don't suppose for a second that she'll arrange 
 with you either," said Lingham gaily. ''I thought 
 I had been insisting on the fact all yesterday." 
 
 Oh, that was before the letter came. Then 
 it was different. It rests with me now — whether 
 she likes me or not. You would have done much 
 better to put me on the boat and get rid of me, 
 you know ! Think what it will mean if I meet 
 with one refusal after another. That's the fear 
 that is paralysing me. If this woman says I'm 
 no use, we shall try to make light of the matter. 
 / shan't feel much like making light of it, but 
 youW. be very nice, and say it wasn't to be ex- 
 pected I should find anything so quickly, and all 
 that sort of thing. And then there'll be another ; 
 and you'll be nice to the ' old man of the sea ' 
 again. But it is the ^ old man of the sea ' that I 
 shall be to you, just as I warned you, and — and 
 by degrees you'll wonder why on earth you were 
 so generous." 
 
 ''If you were ever a sanguine and cheery con- 
 148 
 
Out o' the Window 
 
 versationalist," he said, the dramatic agents 
 have a lot to answer for indeed. I thought I 
 was bad enough myself, but compared with you 
 Tm Mark Tapley." 
 
 ^^Oh," she cried, I should be hateful if I 
 didn't worry ! You're a man ; you don't under- 
 stand. A man always thinks a girl is satisfied to 
 be treated like a child in money matters. Can't 
 you put yourself in my place ? Can't you 
 imagine that I am just sick with anxiety to — - 
 to 
 
 He patted her arm. The sudden passion in 
 her voice embarrassed him. 
 
 **Yes, I will say it," she went on — ^^to show 
 that I'm worthy! You think I'm a nice little 
 fool — you have the right to think me a fool ; as 
 you say, I behaved like Galatea !^ — but I'm not 
 such a fool that I don't understand you took me 
 on trust in the face of the most awful circum- 
 stances. Well, I want you to see that your trust 
 wasn't misplaced in any way — in any way ; I want 
 you to see — I want to prove to you — that you 
 didn't pick up a girl who is content to sponge on 
 you ! That isn't prettily put ; it's rather coarse, 
 isn't it ? But it's exactly what I mean. I want 
 to prove that you didn't pick up a girl who is 
 content to sponge on you ! " 
 
 149 
 
when Love Flies 
 
 She whisked by him with her head low before 
 he could reply. She was rather ashamed of her 
 vehemence, and more than ever she felt that 
 Madame Pigeonneaus decision would be un- 
 favourable. She had no expectation of success 
 whatever as she made the journey. So when 
 she was engaged, the miracle was thrice blessed. 
 
 Lingham was waiting for her in the hall, re- 
 hearsing phrases of consolation ; and she ran 
 towards him, laughing and breathless. 
 
 ''IVe got it!'' she exclaimed. ''Oh, I am so 
 grateful ! Your cousin is a dear ; she had stayed 
 in on purpose to introduce me. Madame Pigeon- 
 neau isn't laid up— I expected to find her in bed 
 — she has only a weak heart — oh, and a good 
 heart ! She was very nice to me, and said I was 
 tres gentille ! Did you know I was tres gen- 
 title? I'm to go at once — to-morrow, and — 
 Well, I'll tell you all about it properly! When 
 I went in Madame Pigeonneau said, ' So zis is 
 ze young lady ? ' Your cousin said I was ; and / 
 said I was, and then there was a little pause — I 
 just quaking in my shoes, you know, and trying 
 to look composed and dignified all the while. 
 Then Madame Pigeonneau asked me if I had any 
 experience, and I was able to say that I had kept 
 house for my father from the time I was sixteen. 
 
 ISO 
 
Out o' the Window 
 
 That went a long way ! She asked if I would 
 get up early and go marketing with Julie — Julie 
 is the servant — and whether I would learn a list 
 of French words in my spare time — the beef, the 
 mutton, the cauliflower, and the potatoes. When 
 I said that my French extended as far as that 
 already, the sensation was enormous! Well, Tm 
 not to have any salary for three months — that s 
 the worst part of it, because I shan't be able to 
 pay what I owe you yet — but I have got the place, 
 and I should like to shout ' hurrah ' at the top of 
 my voice." 
 
 The demonstration was not practicable where 
 they were, and in the evening, when he took her 
 to the Nouveau Cirque to celebrate the triumph, 
 her excitement had subsided. Nevertheless it 
 was a very happy evening. In no hours had he 
 found her so attractive, so ready to see a jest, or 
 to make one, as in these. He regretted that their 
 brief intimacy was ending. There was even a 
 touch of sentimentality in his mood as he re- 
 flected that on the morrow she would be gone. 
 As for the girl, she knew that she would miss his 
 companionship more than she would have believed 
 it possible to miss the presence of a man whom 
 she had known so short a time. It comforted her 
 to remember that Miss Blair was an inmate of 
 
 151 
 
when Love Flies 
 
 the pension, for that meant that he would come 
 there sometimes. 
 
 We shall often see each other/' said Lingham 
 as if in response to her thought. They had had 
 chocolate at a cafe, and were strolling home. 
 The lamps on the boulevards shone clear and 
 cold, and there was the swishing of the brown, 
 leafless trees in the wind. 
 
 I hope so,'' said she. But we shan't see 
 each other before I go ; I want to arrive there 
 very early. So when we say ' good-night ' we 
 will say * good-bye' too." 
 
 I shall get up and see you off," he answered. 
 
 I would rather you didn't; * good-byes' in 
 the early morning are always so sad, don't you 
 think ? Besides it won't really be good-bye at 
 
 all, will it? I " She hesitated. ''I am always 
 
 saying it, and my words sound emptier in my ears 
 every time, but to-night I must tell you again 
 that " 
 
 Oh, no," he said, don't, please ! Let us take 
 it for granted ; I know all you would like to say, 
 and it's really so unnecessary. I wish I could 
 have done more ; you're going into this thing 
 like a little trump, and you're gay, and you're 
 brave about it, but don't imagine that I don't 
 know it must have its sting to you all the same." 
 
 152 
 
Out the Window 
 
 It hasn't," she said ; honestly, it hasn't. 
 Once I daresay . . . but not now.'' 
 
 I shall often come there," he said again. 
 ''When you have a holiday you must let me 
 spend it with you. I suppose you will get a 
 holiday sometimes ? " 
 
 ''I didn't ask," she said; ''I expect I shall. 
 It's queer to feel that Paris is going to be my 
 home ; I may stop here for years, mayn't I ? I 
 may never go on the stage again. After all I 
 don't know why I should ; I have only done it 
 for a living, and I shall have a living without it 
 now." 
 
 '*They say it is very difficult to leave the stage," 
 he replied ; almost as difficult as to get on it." 
 It wouldn't be difficult to me," said the girl. 
 Talking of the stage, did you ever write a play? 
 I thought when I read your book that it would 
 make a very fine play. And Angela Brown, 
 Publisher, would be a striking title." 
 
 ''I'm not sure that it would be a good title for 
 a play . . . but I don't know ; I can see it on the 
 'buses ! Perhaps one day I shall try my hand at 
 dramatic work. It never occurred to me to 
 dramatise Angela Brotvn, Publisher^ though. . . . 
 You're really determined that I'm not to see you 
 off in the morning ? " 
 
 153 
 
when Love Flies 
 
 " I would rather you didn't," she repeated. 
 Madame Pigeonneau asked me to get there as 
 soon as I could, and I want to leave at seven/' 
 
 Very well . . . You re in a feverish hurry to 
 run away from me." 
 
 Not that ; but to — to leave off being a 
 burden," she said. 
 
 YouVe unkind ; do you know you hurt me 
 very much this morning ? You mustn't say that 
 I have found you a burden." 
 
 ''The word was bad," she owned; ''I didn't 
 mean to hurt you." She looked away from him, 
 between smiles and tears. 
 
 *' I shall miss you to-morrow," said Lingham 
 impulsively. '' I should like to have — I wish I 
 hadn't meddled ! . . . I seem to have known 
 you much longer than I have, Miss Weston. 
 Is ' Weston ' your real name or a professional 
 one r 
 
 My real name," she said. 
 And— and ' Meenie ' ? " 
 ' Meenie ' is real too." 
 They had reached the step, but they had to 
 wait to be admitted. After they had rung 
 twice, the porter turned in his bed and pulled 
 the cord, and they entered the hall, dim in the 
 blueness of a single burner. 
 
 154 
 
Out o' the Window 
 
 The girl drew off her right glove. 
 Good night, Miss Meenie Weston," said 
 Lingham, facing her. 
 
 ''Good night, and — au revoir," she said. 
 
 In the glimmer of the lowered gas-jet their 
 gaze dwelt together for a moment ; then the 
 softness of her hand fell from him, and she went 
 slowly up the stairs. 
 
 When about ten minutes had passed, Lingham 
 stole to the fourth floor too, and tapped. 
 
 Her voice reached him faintly. 
 
 '' It s I," he said. Tm pushing a note under 
 the door. Can you see it ? There's no answer. 
 Good night." 
 
 ''Good night." 
 
 She crept forward, a little white-gowned figure 
 with her hair about her shoulders, and read his 
 message in the candlelight. " For the cab and 
 pocket money." Two louis slipped from the 
 envelope. 
 
 The stairs creaked unmusically as he went 
 down. 
 
 She locked her hands over her breast, and 
 listened to every footfall. 
 
 " Dear little woman ! " murmured Lingham^ 
 looking up in the bareness of his room. 
 
 155 
 
CHAPTER XIII 
 
 IN the pension dwelt nine girls, and some of 
 them were fair to see. Each had her aims, 
 her joys, her sorrows, and was the heroine of 
 a story ; but this is the story of only one girl. 
 Six of the nine studied at Colarossis in la 
 Rue de la Grande Chaumiere ; two worked at 
 Delecluse s in la Rue Notre Dame des Champs ; 
 and the other stopped at home, and counted the 
 candles, and distributed the soap. And when 
 Madame Pigeonneau kept her room, the ninth 
 girl reigned in her stead over the ragout. 
 
 The ninth girl was not unhappy. If appetite 
 is the best sauce, occupation is the best tonic. 
 When she began to understand her duties, she 
 extracted some pleasure from them. If she 
 occasionally left undone things which she ought 
 to have done, she offered compensation by the 
 performance of tasks for which she was not 
 eng-aged. She made beds. And she made 
 something else, which the students received with 
 acclamation, and which Julie eyed amazed : she 
 
 156 
 
when Love Flies Out o' the Window 
 
 made tea ! The tea and her singing were such 
 successful contributions to the gaiety of the salon 
 that Colarossis and Delecluses furnished two 
 further applicants for board and residence within 
 a fortnight. Madame Pigeonneau could not take 
 them because the house was already full, but 
 none the less she appreciated the advertisement. 
 
 In this environment of high thoughts and plain 
 living it was the ninth girl who provided the 
 love interest. His cousin, w^hom Lingham asked 
 for when he called, was the first to discover 
 whom he came to see ; but when she invited 
 him to share the ragout, and he passed the 
 evening in Meenie s presence with eight young 
 women looking on, there wasn't a boarder in the 
 pension who failed to scent a romance. Per- 
 sonally they shunned romance ; righteously reared 
 damsels, every student of them, they connected 
 romance with marriage, and no girl who took 
 her art seriously could contemplate domesticity 
 without hysterics. Four of the English girls 
 were even members of the A.M.L., a society 
 founded in the British Museum for the purpose 
 of preserving the feminine student from tempta- 
 tion. The initials signified the Anti - Matri- 
 monial League.'' Still, to those whose mission 
 in life was less important than their own, they 
 
 157 
 
when Love Flies 
 
 recognised that romance was not necessarily 
 fatal. Courtship as an entertainment they con- 
 doned, and, indeed, approved ; secure in the pit, 
 one applauds temerity on the trapeze. Specula- 
 tion ran high as to Miss Weston s sentiments. 
 The pensionnaires who worked at the Academie 
 Delecluse declared that no signs of spooniness 
 were visible," but among the six at Colarossi's 
 the general opinion was that she thought him 
 a dear." It is strange that woman is always able 
 to diagnose the love fever more readily in a man 
 than in one of her own sex. 
 
 So much for the audience. As to Meenie, she 
 was in love, and knew it ; Lingham had fallen in 
 love, but was reluctant to acknowledge it yet. 
 He said he liked her very much. He liked to 
 be with her ; he was thankful when he found him- 
 self alone with her. When his cousin remembered 
 that there was a letter or a photograph upstairs 
 that she wanted to show him, and Meenie and 
 he were left tete-a-tete for five minutes, he 
 counted it unto Georgina for righteousness. It 
 will be seen that Georgina had taken a fancy to 
 Meenie. In a novel she would have been her 
 rival, and either have warned her solemnly that 
 the marriage would ruin his career, or have con- 
 gratulated them both with a brave smile, and 
 
 J 58 
 
Out o' the Window 
 
 shed scalding tears in private. Her actual 
 thoughts were that Miss Weston was very nice, 
 and that it was a great pity Ralph wasn't better 
 off. 
 
 Meenie s outdoor exercise was not taken solely 
 in the company of Julie, nor for the purchase of 
 provisions. She went sometimes for a walk, and 
 by -and -by Lingham learnt the fact, and they 
 wandered about the Quartier together. At this 
 stage he knew that he was very fond of her, 
 because a man cannot loiter at the end of a 
 street for half an hour on the chance of a girl 
 coming round the corner, and continue to euphe- 
 mise. Then he inquired sternly what his inten- 
 tions were ; if he didn't mean to propose to her, 
 he was behaving unfairly. He was certainly in 
 no position to marry ; if anybody had ever 
 asserted that he would think of taking a wife 
 unto himself on an income of two guineas a 
 week, and something over seventy pounds in 
 cash, he would have replied that the prophet 
 had been drinking. His convictions were sud- 
 denly deranged ; the pictures to which he had 
 aspired allured him no more, and he revelled 
 in impressions that had formerly made him 
 shudder. The Chippendale bookcases, the right 
 editions, the stall when he went to the play, what 
 
 159 
 
when Love Flies 
 
 was it all worth ? A man might look back and 
 lament in the midst of Chippendale bookcases ! 
 A tiny apartment under the slates, with the girl 
 in his arms, and a manuscript in the press, would 
 be a richer joy. Besides, he would get on. It 
 wasn t probable — in his present mood — to sup- 
 pose that public recognition would never come 
 to him. They could be patient ; they could 
 economise until he hit the popular taste. Per- 
 haps the novel that was due in the spring would 
 be a pecuniary success ? He might make several 
 hundred pounds by it — for that matter, he might 
 make a great deal more. Other writers managed 
 to please the critics and the public too : why 
 shouldn't he ? And he might attempt a comedy. 
 Her suggestion of his dmrn^itismg An£'e/a Brown 
 — Publisher, had taken root in his mind, and 
 vaguely he saw a scenario. Without the post 
 on The Other Side, he told himself that he 
 wouldn't have dared to rush into matrimony ; but 
 although the salary would not pay their expenses, 
 it would eke out the money in hand until a further 
 sum came in. 
 
 Perhaps she did not like him enough ? She 
 was grateful to him ; there was a touch of senti- 
 ment in her gratitude, he was sure ; but she might 
 consider that even employment without anxieties 
 
 1 60 
 
Out o' the Window 
 
 was preferable to a reckless marriage. It would 
 be delicious irony to have his own familiar argu- 
 ments turned against him ! A pair of blue eyes 
 had sent his theories all spinning in the air ; let 
 the lips prate prudence, and the situation would 
 be complete. How he had always ridiculed the 
 idea of love in a cottage, loathed it, sickened at 
 it ! He knew that cottage ; several of his ac- 
 quaintances had taken it, and asked him to 
 dinner. It was furnished conspicuously with 
 Aspinall and the wedding presents. The train 
 service was excellent — in the time-table — and 
 you smelt boiled cabbage, and heard the babies 
 crying when you reached the front door. And 
 yet — Well, he did not crave for a baby now, but 
 he would welcome even Aspinall and a suburb as 
 concomitants to Meenie. 
 
 When she had been at the pension a little more 
 than a month, he confessed it ; not in those words, 
 but in the best phrases that he could find. They 
 were very artless. Realist though he was, he 
 would have hesitated to put such a proposal into 
 one of his books. For this reason, among others, 
 the proposal is omitted from the narrative. He 
 explained his circumstances with perfect candour, 
 and asked her if she would be his wife. 
 
 They were on the Boulevard Saint- Michel — 
 
 L l6l 
 
When Love Flies 
 
 a poor place to propose in, though a million 
 romances begin and end there. Twilight was 
 falling ; the windows of the brasseries and cafes 
 glowed warmly, and the flower-sellers, and the 
 olive -vendors, and the decorative Turks with 
 their trays of sweets, dodged deftly among the 
 crowd. 
 
 Y es," she said. 
 The man was seized with regret that he could 
 not catch her close and kiss her. The girl, who 
 was equally ecstatic, did not feel the need of a 
 physical caress yet. To him the crowd that kept 
 her from his arms became momentarily more 
 obtrusive, more irritating ; to her it was impalp- 
 able, a dream ; only he and she were the realities. 
 A hand thrust a posy towards him ; a voice 
 pleaded to him to buy a little bouquet for his 
 sweetheart — seulement trente centhnes'' He 
 grasped the blossoms as an augury, and drew 
 her out of the stream of traffic to a table, where 
 they were served with something that she could 
 not taste. 
 
 Then he leant towards her and whispered. 
 She looked at him across the flowers. It's 
 very wonderful," she said, speaking as if she 
 were in church. 
 
 I was just thinking so too." 
 
 162 
 
Out o' the Window 
 
 " I meant it is wonderful to feel that you care 
 for me/' 
 
 ''/meant it is wonderful to feel you re going 
 to be my wife." 
 
 ''Seise sous, msieu,'' said the waiter briskly. 
 '^Merci bien, msieu He whipped up the tray, 
 and bustled to the counter. 
 
 I hope Tm not letting you do wrong?'' she 
 went on after a silence. '' Perhaps one day 
 youll wish we hadn't met each other." 
 
 ^'You know I shall never do that; it is you 
 who are being rash." 
 
 We shall be awfully hard up." 
 I have been hard up all my life." 
 '' We may rise to an attic." 
 ril make it pretty if we do! We'll have 
 a flower-pot and a birdcage in the window." 
 
 A bird would drive me mad when I'm at 
 work ; I have a dreadful temper." 
 *' So have I — furious ! " 
 
 You ? You're an angel ! " 
 She laughed softly. ''You don't know me 
 yet. Wait till you find me out." 
 
 The prospect thrilled him ; his heart swelled 
 at it. He clasped her hand furtively, with an 
 eye on the waiter's back. 
 
 163 
 
when Love Flies 
 
 Meenie ! 
 
 Tell me my name." 
 " Mr. Lingham." 
 
 IVe warned you what my temper is like." 
 ''Then ' Ralph' — because Tm frightened." 
 
 Meenie!" 
 ^^Yes?" 
 
 Nothing — I wanted to say ' Meenie/ that's 
 all. . . . Meenie, I shan't be able to write a line 
 to-night; can't you. get away and go out with 
 me?" 
 
 '*Oh, I can't again this evening!" she ex- 
 claimed. ''How could I ? You might come 
 there instead — if you want to see me very much." 
 
 '' That's not so good ; I hate those gawky girls 
 sitting about the room and listening to every 
 word I say to you. Still, I suppose I must put 
 up with them a little longer. You will arrange 
 to leave soon, won't you ? When will you marry 
 me, Meenie ? " 
 
 "Some day," she murmured, "if we don't 
 grow wise." 
 
 "Will you marry me next week?" 
 
 " Next week ? " She played with the teaspoon, 
 and her bosom rose. 
 
 "Monsieur ees not reading ze Figaro?'' A 
 164 
 
Out o' the Window 
 
 waiter, proud of his English, pointed to the 
 journal on the table. 
 
 ''No,'' said Lingham impatiently, no, take 
 it ! " He leant closer to her. Why should we 
 wait?'' he urged. ''Poor people ought to be 
 practical. We shall have seventeen hundred 
 and fifty francs next week ; the week after there 
 won't be so much. To delay would be sheer 
 improvidence. The prudent course is to marry 
 at once." 
 
 A clock brought her down to earth. 
 I must go," she said, starting. I had for- 
 gotten all about the time ; Madame Pigeonneau 
 will wonder where I am. Then you will come 
 to-night ? " 
 
 ''Yes," he said, "I shall come, of course; but 
 I'm going to the end of the street with you now. 
 You needn't run, Cinderella ; look, your coach 
 is on the rank ! " 
 
 "We can't afford it. Prince," she smiled. 
 
 He found the plural number enchanting, but 
 he drove her to the corner in spite of the 
 remonstrance. The crowd on the pavement 
 would have hindered her — and in the shadow 
 of the cab there was no one in the way. 
 
 165 
 
CHAPTER XIV 
 
 HE earliest joy that first love yields a girl 
 
 X is the sense of being mastered. The 
 second is the revelation of her own power. This 
 astonishes her ; the god kneels, and the throne 
 is hers. At the beginning she is a little breath- 
 less, a little bewildered ; she does not realise 
 herself in the aspect that she wears to him. She 
 discovers that she possesses a force she knew 
 nothing about : she intoxicates. She has in- 
 toxicated nobody hitherto ; neither her brothers, 
 to whom she has been sexless, nor her sisters, 
 who have always told her that she would be 
 pretty if her nose weren't so long. It startles 
 her to find that the hands that cut the bread-and- 
 butter can make a man tremble when they touch 
 him ; that the hair she has brushed and coiled 
 impassively all her life holds a shiver in every 
 thread. She has scrutinised her features night 
 and morning for years, yet her lover s eyes reflect 
 a magic in her face which the mirror has not 
 shown. She wonders, she experiments, she 
 exults. His emotions surprise her as the bits 
 
 1 66 
 
when Love Flies Out o' the Window 
 
 of paper attracted by the sealing-wax surprise 
 a child ; she finds it lovely to see them jump. 
 Very soon she accepts divinity as a birthright ; 
 and her family, to whom she still is mortal, gape. 
 
 Meenie's engagement to Lingham differed from 
 most engagements, only insomuch as it was 
 briefer. Of course, she consented to marry him 
 in the following week, and meanwhile they hunted 
 for a place to live in. As an engaged man he 
 found that the evening in the salon, with eight 
 pairs of eyes studying his symptoms, had its 
 awkwardness ; it was embarrassing for the fiancee 
 too, so she obtained permission to go out every 
 afternoon now, and the number of slatternly land- 
 ladies they contrived to interview on these after- 
 noons was highly creditable. It had promised 
 to be the easiest thing in the world to choose 
 a lodging, but the adjectives in advertisements 
 are so misleading^. For ''charminor" both con- 
 ceived quite a violent hatred; the ''charming 
 rooms/' that proved to be dirty beyond ex- 
 pression, were as numerous as the half-dressed 
 proprUtaires, 
 
 Yet, though they were sometimes tired and 
 often disappointed, it was not devoid of excite- 
 ment to mount the high staircases together and 
 conjecture what would be revealed at the top ; 
 
 167 
 
when Love Flies 
 
 not without its tremors to inspect side by side 
 the apartments where they might soon lie heart 
 to heart. It was not conventional — it was Mariage 
 au Quartier Latin — but the sense of intimacy was 
 delicious. They wanted at a moderate rental a 
 couple of rooms prettily furnished, with a piano, 
 and attendance, and a pleasant view. Who should 
 seek less ? Yet it began to seem as if they must 
 decide between a flat, with a servant to sleep out, 
 and a pension. And the one was expensive ; the 
 other distasteful. 
 
 Their honeymoon was to be spent in Paris. 
 From the Consulate they intended to drive 
 straight home. Lingham had suggested a fort- 
 night in the country, but the girl was obdurate ; 
 ''You have been extravagant enough,'' she said; 
 ''when we are married we must begin as we 
 mean to go on." They were eager in these 
 circumstances to make their choice speedily, so 
 that the place might look cosy when they entered. 
 The man wanted his books unpacked, and Meenie 
 had visions of flowers and her music. 
 
 At last they stumbled on a veritable bargain 
 over a shop in la Rue Poncelet. The piano 
 merely needed tuning, and the woman was not 
 only cheerful, but — for a Paris landlady — clean. 
 She offered them two rooms for ninety francs a 
 
 1 68 
 
Out o' the Window 
 
 week, including food and wine. They could see 
 potentialities in those rooms ; when they had 
 ''put their things about" all would be well. She 
 was ready to provide a second table for Monsieur 
 to write at, and expressed the conviction that 
 Madame would find her cooking phenomenal. 
 Nobody could say more. Lingham paid Madame 
 Goigoux a deposit on the spot, and they de- 
 scended the stairs jubilantly. 
 
 Thenceforward they made daily pilgrimages to 
 la Rue Poncelet. On Monday they enshrined 
 a plant, and on Tuesday, in les Ternes, they 
 picked up some bookshelves. Georgina was a 
 very good friend to them, and her ideas on the 
 subject of a wedding present were so exuberant 
 that they required restraining. He had invited 
 her to breakfast with them at a restaurant after 
 the ceremony, but in the end it was settled that 
 he should give a little dinner instead the day 
 before; and previous to the dinner they imparted 
 to their abode the finishing touches. 
 
 They had arrived with their trunks. It was 
 almost as if they were man and wife already as 
 the luggage was dumped into the salon, and they 
 knelt over their belongings on the same carpet. 
 The chest that held the books was difficult to 
 open, but when the lid was wrenched off, and, 
 
 169 
 
when Love Flies 
 
 between the brown paper, the volumes showed 
 their alluring backs, the girls fair head dipped 
 to the contents as blithely as a duck s to the 
 stream. And she was not dilatory with a duster. 
 They arranged their library in four fascinating 
 rows. Then Meenie took out the photographs 
 of her parents, which she put on the mantelshelf, 
 and one of herself at the age of twelve, which 
 Lingham annexed immediately, and vowed must 
 stand nowhere but on the second table. For the 
 adornment of the walls Madame Goigoux had 
 deposited on the floor a stack of unframed can- 
 vases that had been the property of a former 
 lodger, and these they pounced on, to communi- 
 cate to the ensemble a dash of colour, a sug- 
 gestion of the studio, which would lift it into 
 the ideal. 
 
 They examined the Italian models and the 
 dancing-girls together, a committee of two, cheek 
 by cheek. One dancing-girl recurred so often 
 that they drew inferences, and some of the 
 '"Academies" Lingham promptly dropped, before 
 the cheek approached, for consideration after they 
 were married. He balanced himself on a flight 
 of steps, and Meenie stood at the foot with a 
 critical eye, and her hand full of tacks. As often 
 as she held one up to him he kissed her fingers, 
 
 170 
 
Out o' the Window 
 
 at the risk of breaking his neck, and this made 
 the process of picture-hanging unnecessarily slow. 
 However, when their selections were all displayed 
 to the best advantage, the improvement was un- 
 deniable. With the sketches and the books, and 
 the plant blooming in the window, the little in- 
 terior was inviting enough. They surveyed the 
 result of their labours with unmixed approval, 
 and as to Madame Goigoux, who returned to see 
 how they were getting on, she waxed so enthusi- 
 astic that they began to fear she might raise the 
 rent. 
 
 But their complacence was as nothing com- 
 pared with their rapture in opening the door the 
 next evening. Welcome was in the air. The 
 world was hidden by the curtains, lamplight shone 
 on the bulbous gold of the champagne bottle, and 
 the glasses twinkled on the cloth. The girl un- 
 pinned her hat ; his emotion was infinite ; they 
 had come to stay ; she lived with him here — in- 
 credible ! Let me take off your jacket," he 
 begged. It was thrilling to divest her of it, to 
 draw off her gloves, and, for the first time, to 
 have her nestle in his arms in the atmosphere of 
 home. She gathered up the things and tripped 
 to the bedroom. He wandered restlessly, longing 
 for her to return. The dinner had been ordered 
 
 171 
 
when Love Flies 
 
 from a restaurant close by, and presently Madame 
 Goigoux came in with the soup. He called, and 
 his wife answered. O bounteous hour, fruitful in 
 surprises ! To call, and to hear one s wife answer ! 
 The strange joy shook him. A moment later she 
 reappeared, and, lo ! the fairy godmother had been 
 with her, and she was transfigured, dazzling in a 
 white silk frock. He caught his breath. 
 
 " I couldn^t help it ! " She blushed. Our 
 wedding day ! I wanted to look nice." 
 
 His eyes devoured her. Her own drooped 
 before them, but her bosom was triumphant. 
 
 *'You look beautiful,'' he murmured; ^'you 
 look taller. How did I find the courage to pro- 
 pose to you ? " He offered his arm. Mrs. 
 Lingham, may I take you down ? " 
 
 They went to the table. The cork popped a 
 salute, and they moved the lamp that they might 
 see each other better. 
 
 ''Say that again,'' she commanded; 'T liked it." 
 Say what ? That you are beautiful ? " 
 No, no ; my new name." 
 
 So he repeated it : Mrs. Lingham ! But 
 ' Meenie ' vibrates to me much more." 
 Oh, ' Meenie' is so old to me,'' 
 
 He foamed her glass afresh. I propose the 
 health of the bride and bridegroom ! I say from 
 
 172 
 
Out o' the Window 
 
 my heart that the bride is divine. What she saw 
 in the bridegroom Heaven knows, / don't! But 
 
 utterly unworthy of her as he is " 
 
 No, no ! " she cried. 
 
 In spite of unseemly interruptions, I say that 
 
 utterly unworthy of her as he is " 
 
 ^^He isn^t!'^ 
 I still thank God he won her! I ask you to 
 drink to their happiness, darling." 
 
 They clinked their glasses with his arm about 
 her waist ; and Madame Goigoux came back with 
 the fish. 
 
 Of a truth Madame Goigoux was rather a 
 nuisance, for the courses seemed so many, and 
 their appetite was so small. By the time the 
 entree was reached the carefully considered dinner 
 became as perfunctory as a banquet in a play ; 
 everything looked very good ; there was the 
 semblance of feasting ; but as for the banqueters' 
 appreciation of the viands, that was the merest 
 show. For all its flavour to the bride the bird 
 might have been created by the property master, 
 and if the groom had obeyed half the impulses 
 that seized him to snatch her hands from her knife 
 and fork, the dinner would never have befen 
 finished at all. 
 
 However, he was patient, and held them when 
 173 
 
When Love Flies Out o' the Window 
 
 the cloth was cleared. Butterfly-kisses are the 
 quiver of a girl's eyelashes on her lover s face. 
 She made him smoke, saying that she would 
 not be treated as if she were a visitor. She 
 wondered if he wanted to put his slippers on, 
 but she didn't like to ask him that, although 
 she was sure that boots worn all day must be 
 extremely painful. 
 
 By-and-by he begged her to sing, and opened 
 the piano. He stood there to turn the leaves 
 for her, but she would not let him do it, and 
 banished him to the armchair. Her voice had 
 never sounded so intense to him, and she had 
 never sung so badly. The lover and the artist 
 both responded to it, and passionately he envied 
 a composer's power of communicating in a line 
 more than an author could express in a thousand 
 words. 
 
 She rose, and leant by the window. He saw 
 that she did not wish to speak. The street was 
 sinking into silence ; the little shops across the 
 way slept behind their shutters. She looked up 
 at the sky, remembering vaguely many crises in 
 which she had watched the stars — and the stars 
 were still unchanged ! By no transition her 
 thoughts reverted to her mother ; and the husband 
 behind her became a strange man. 
 
 174 
 
CHAPTER XV 
 
 HE popular imagination has been so im- 
 
 X pressed by facile pictures of a clown 
 grinning through a horse-collar with tears in 
 his eyes that many people have come to regard 
 the career of clown as uniquely poignant. But 
 there are fewer clowns than journalists, and while 
 the sorrowing clown must cut capers with his 
 legs, the stricken journalist must be nimble with 
 his mind, which is far more difficult, and doubly 
 cruel. Though the screams of a wife in agony 
 shake his pen, he mustn't be late with his leader. 
 A coffin may lie in the silent house, but the 
 Paper will go to press at the usual hour. If the 
 graveyard has numbed him in body and brain, 
 he must hammer out that column of Notes and 
 Comments" before the pillar-box is cleared. In 
 grief or in joy, on a sick-bed, or on a honey- 
 moon, the first duty of a journalist is to post 
 his copy in time ; and after breakfast on the 
 morrow Lingham had to wrestle with his causerie, 
 though he had never attacked it with more re- 
 luctance. 
 
when Love Flies 
 
 Meenie watched her lord with reverent eyes, 
 and when he bit the penholder and stared dis- 
 consolately at the ceiling, her heart ached for 
 him. In the circumstances it was not to be 
 expected that he would progress very rapidly, 
 and there were several interludes of the David 
 and Dora type. After luncheon they went on the 
 boulevards, and bought the Chronicle and a lot 
 of French newspapers — it surprised her to find 
 what a lot of French newspapers he had to skim 
 — and in the evening they witnessed a dreary 
 show at Olympia. 
 
 The cooking of Madame Goigoux was not 
 phenomenal,'' but it w^as satisfactory, and they 
 had no reason to complain of their arrangement 
 as the days passed. By degrees the sense of 
 strangeness wore from the perpetual tete-a-tete ; 
 the man found it possible to write without turn- 
 ing his head every other minute to see if his 
 wife looked comfortable, and Meenie was able 
 to appreciate more of their library than the 
 titles. 
 
 Of course, she appreciated nothing so warmly 
 as Lingham s copy for The Other Side. That 
 was devotion. It savoured of the miraculous to 
 her when he wrote, ''The incident reminds one 
 of" — an anecdote that was much brighter than 
 
 176 
 
Out o' the Window 
 
 the incident itself, and threw in an epigram which 
 somebody who died a hundred years ago seemed 
 to have made on purpose to fit the situation. 
 What if the paragraph did take an hour and 
 a half to produce ? She could not have done 
 it herself in a lifetime ! Her opportunities while 
 he worked were when he was doubtful of the 
 epigram, and she could run to the shelves and 
 pull down the book that he wanted to refer to. 
 And when she read : But those behind the 
 scenes are smiling at the rumour," she was quite 
 sure the editor of the journal must think his 
 correspondent was a member of the best clubs 
 and an habitue of all the green-rooms. 
 
 When the new year was a fortnight old, 
 Lingham began seriously to consider the drama- 
 tisation of Angela Bi'own — Publisher, The 
 project was infinitely more fascinating to her 
 than his journalism, for it had been born of her 
 suggestion, and, better still, they could discuss 
 the scenario together. 
 
 It was discussed for many days. More than 
 once the lamp died out while they sat talking 
 over the difficulties, and they were plunged in 
 darkness. It was pathetic to realise how many 
 of the best scenes in the book must be sacrificed 
 for dramatic form, and dizzying to discover that 
 M 177 
 
when Love Flies 
 
 he was compelled to lay a whole Act in Angela s 
 office. 
 
 I don't know how to bring anybody in there 
 after the hero has gone," he said; ''and Tm 
 bound to show that office. What does every- 
 body come for? — the entire cast can't have written 
 novels. ... Of course, nine-tenths of the dialogue 
 about literary life must be cut out for the theatre. 
 I must just explain how Angela comes to have 
 the business, and what kind of girl she is, and 
 then stick to the story." 
 
 It might — no, that wouldn't do ! " said Mee- 
 
 nie. 
 
 What were you going to say ? " 
 
 I was going to say it might be her birthday ; 
 that's why the others come." 
 
 Well, she has a home ; she wouldn't give a 
 party in her office." 
 
 No, I thought of that as I spoke ; her birth- 
 day is no good. Supposing — No, that wouldn't 
 do either ! " 
 
 He pulled at his pipe, and mused heavily. 
 
 Well, it's quite certain that a way must be 
 found to bring some people in there," he said 
 at last in a slightly injured tone; ''she and the 
 hero can't jaw over his infernal manuscript for 
 a whole Act. Wait, wait, wait! I've got it, 
 
 178 
 
Out o' the Window 
 
 IVe got it! Don't talk to me — IVe got it, and 
 it'll go ! " 
 
 Ab uno disce omnes. There were evenings 
 when they gazed at each other despairingly, and 
 others when the wits of both were nimble, and 
 obstacles fell like ninepins. She could not write 
 three lines — she tried once for fun — but occasion- 
 ally, as she came to have an inkling of con- 
 struction, she would vault a hedge, or dart to 
 a hole in it, more quickly than he. 
 
 Nevertheless he had an eye for essentials. 
 Staggering as the task was at times, he found 
 he was accomplishing a scenario which looked 
 workmanlike with greater speed than he would 
 have expected of himself, considering the toil and 
 tribulation inflicted by The Other Side. It was 
 the scenario — the skeleton of the thing — that 
 was his chief anxiety ; of his dialogue he wasn't 
 much afraid. He worked so indefatigably that a 
 bride less interested in his pursuits might have 
 felt neglected. The girl told him once that a 
 pen was never out of his hand except when he 
 was rustling the daily supply of French news- 
 papers. He drew her close, and answered. 
 Because I want to make money for Meenie ! " 
 But he took her to the Palais de Glace that night, 
 not quite sure that he hadn't been a brute. 
 
 179 
 
when Love Flies 
 
 When its last bone was fitted and polished, the 
 skeleton was packed up, and its creator trembled 
 for it as he had not trembled yet, for it was going 
 to London to be judged by an expert. And he 
 had grown to love the skeleton. He addressed 
 it to ''Spencer Parlett, Esquire,'' and enclosed a 
 letter saying he wanted to hear the truth. 
 
 Let it be understood that Spencer Parlett was 
 a popular dramatic author, and it is redundant to 
 add that he was a friend, for popular dramatic 
 authors do not read manuscripts to oblige ac- 
 quaintances. He was, as a matter of fact. Ling- 
 ham's familiar friend, and one of the small minority 
 who believed him to be a novelist of uncommon 
 power. The belief was older than the friendship. 
 Though they had never collaborated, Lingham 
 had learnt more of stagecraft from their intimacy 
 than he had suspected until the last few weeks ; 
 and he had learnt enough to know the folly of 
 proceeding further with the structure if the frame- 
 work was malformed. But again, he loved the 
 skeleton : he awaited the reply with nervousness. 
 
 It came four evenings later. Meenie tiptoed 
 to read it over his shoulder, but 'twas scrawled in 
 pencil, and Parlett wrote a devilish hand. Ling- 
 ham read aloud — slowly, and muttered criticisms 
 which were not in the note. Fully twenty 
 
 1 80 
 
Out o' the Window 
 
 minutes had gone by before he grasped the sense 
 of the whole, and even then there remained one 
 or two words which he could only guess at. 
 
 " My dear Benedict, — 
 
 " How is it possible that people possessed of 
 such magnificence in Fiction can envy me my humble 
 cottage on the Stage ? Sharper than a serpent's tooth 
 it is to have a competitory pal. So I have nursed a 
 viper on my hearth only that he may pluck the fees 
 from a struggling playwright's purse ! Go ahead, dear 
 boy — I think it ought to ^ come out ' excellently. 
 
 "Yours ever, 
 
 " S. P." 
 
 He is a very good chap,'' observed Lingham, 
 glowing. '''Excellently,' eh? He couldn't say 
 much more, could he.'^ I'm very fond of Parlett. 
 Meenie, if this makes our fortune, it will be your 
 doing ; I should never have started it but for you. 
 Who knows ! it may be a colossal success ; we 
 
 might make " His brain swam. ''Parlett 
 
 has made about thirty thousand pounds out of 
 Tke Power of the Purse since it was written. A 
 big success in the theatre is an income for life. 
 Oh, my dear, I should love to get you swagger 
 frocks, and diamonds, and buy you a carriage ! 
 You would look so fetching in a victoria ! " 
 
 "Goose!" she said, seeing herself in it. 
 i8i 
 
When Love Flies 
 
 **What is Parlett like? Is he young? How 
 jolly it must be to meet famous people ! " 
 
 I don't meet many. Young? Well, he isn't 
 so young as he was, or as he feels. He has done 
 a lot of things in collaboration, you know, and 
 when he first worked with other men he always 
 used to make ' the old man ' in his comedies fifty 
 — an enfeebled dotard of fifty. Then, as time 
 went on, Parlett began to resent it when a colla- 
 borator wrote *an old man — 50.' He used to 
 say, ' Not fifty, my dear fellow — fifty is ridi- 
 culous ! Let us make him fifty-five.' And for 
 a while * the old man ' in Parlett 's comedies was 
 always fifty-five. But everything is relative ; 
 to-day he always pleads for him to be sixty. 
 It's becoming very difficult for his collaborators ! 
 He says, * In my plays fifty is the heyday — my 
 favourite age. Very soon the gallant boy of fifty 
 will be my hero ! " 
 
 He wrote the first line of the dialogue the next 
 morning; after the encouragement he had received, 
 how could he hesitate ? For all that, he recog- 
 nised that the avocation had its risk ; no matter 
 how good the piece might prove, it would be a 
 property for which he had to find a market, 
 whereas if he sat down to a novel, instead, he 
 would be producing something for which his 
 
 182 
 
Out o' the Window 
 
 market was already made. They had often dis- 
 cussed the point, and once during the morning 
 he turned to her with it again. 
 
 Its a slower job than I thought it would be/' 
 he exclaimed. I can t write at the Parlett rate ! 
 I believe Tm mad, after all, to devote months to 
 an experiment. Suppose the time is thrown 
 away ? suppose I never get the thing accepted ? 
 Tm not in a position to try my hand at a new 
 game." 
 
 He did not know it, but beneath the irritation 
 in his voice there was the plaintive ring of one 
 who hopes he will be contradicted. Instinct set 
 her reply in the right key. 
 
 ''The experiment has been made," she said 
 promptly. ''We never feared for your dialogue, 
 only for your construction. That is done — and 
 praised ! " 
 
 He looked happier ; the irritation of his tone 
 was less marked. 
 
 " Praised by somebody who hasn't got a 
 theatre," he argued. " Parlett s praise won t put 
 the piece on the stage when it is finished. If I 
 were getting ninety francs a week from the paper 
 I wouldn't mind, but we're eating up our capital. 
 How long will it last? I never could do 
 arithmetic." 
 
 183 
 
when Love Flies 
 
 Ages ! " she returned. And your book will 
 be out directly ; there will be more money to 
 come from that/' 
 
 ''It mayn't be much, and it may not come in 
 time/' 
 
 Some of it," she persisted, is bound to come 
 in time. There are your Continental rights." 
 
 He smiled. You're a delightful little business 
 woman ! You remember, do you ? " 
 
 ''Oh, I remember! I ask for information — 
 like Rosa Dartle — and when it's given I don't 
 forget. Besides" — she leant over him with a 
 master-stroke — " you would be wasting time if 
 you put the comedy aside now. Your head 
 is full of it, and you could no more think out 
 a plot for a new novel while your brain is 
 bubbling with something else than / could. 
 You would do just nothing ! " 
 
 The truth of this settled the doubt once and 
 for all, and he plunged into the work chin-deep. 
 They paid Madame Goigoux a franc a week 
 extra, because sometimes he burnt the lamp half 
 the night now. Happy amendments often flashed 
 on him after he was in bed, and then at breakfast 
 he sat tortured, straining to recall them, and 
 jumped when a spoon clinked. He hooked a 
 pencil and pad on the wall over his pillow, and 
 
 184 
 
Out o' the Window 
 
 would heave in the dark and scratch memoranda 
 just as she was falling asleep. Once, when she 
 woke, she crept from the bedroom to see a bowed 
 back, and wild hair, and a clock pointing to the 
 hour of five. And behold the wise woman ! 
 She did not say, Do you know the time, dear ? 
 She noted that the pen flew fast, and, holding 
 her breath, stole back so cautiously that he never 
 guessed he had been overlooked. Verily when 
 an author can approve his wife she was deserving 
 of a better fate ! 
 
 185 
 
CHAPTER XVI 
 
 THE winter passed, and, on the boulevards, 
 the buds and the chairs came out while 
 he worked at the comedy ; and in the blaze of 
 summer he was still scribbling and declaiming at 
 the second table, for a dramatist can no more 
 write dialogue in silence than an actor can study 
 a part sitting down. Parlett had returned the 
 scenario at the end of February ; when the post- 
 man delivered to the author two type-written 
 copies of the piece the end of July was near. 
 Very attractive the four Acts looked with their 
 red-ruled margins and their pink bows. It was 
 almost as pleasant to toy with them as it had 
 been in April to receive the six free copies of the 
 novel, Dedicated to my Wife. What playwright 
 in his noviciate would have demurred when the 
 girl he thought prettiest declared that the carbon 
 copy of Angela Brown — Publisher must be bound 
 in cloth for her own shelf Not Lingham, though 
 it had been ordered lest the other went astray in 
 its adventures. 
 
 1 86 
 
when Love Flies Out o' the Window 
 
 They commenced briskly. The piece was sub- 
 mitted to the Pall Mall Theatre — where the actor- 
 manager s wife was the leading lady — and after a 
 week of comparative idleness, Ralph began to 
 revolve another book. The review^s of the last 
 were as excellent as usual. Often when Meenie 
 had torn open the exciting green wrappers, and 
 devoured the cuttings that were enclosed, there 
 seemed to her a touch of unreality in the situa- 
 tion ; she contemplated his pecuniary position in 
 amaze. ''Mr. Lingham" in the criticisms sounded 
 so successful, so secure ; he sounded so aloof from 
 the herd that struggled. If she had read criti- 
 cisms of his work before she met him, in how 
 different an environment she would have pictured 
 '' Mr. Lingham " ! Surely the critics themselves 
 would gasp to learn what his capital was. 
 
 His gossip for the paper was now at its best. 
 At the onset it had been a trifle rigid, though 
 never so bad as he had thougrht it. During the 
 period of his immersion in the comedy it had 
 become a shade careless ; to-day he was beyond 
 question worth his salary — so there was no moral 
 to be adduced from the thing that happened. He 
 was dismissed. He was to be supplanted by the 
 proprietors nephew, for whom the proprietors 
 daughter felt a more than cousinly interest. Of 
 
 187 
 
when Love Flies 
 
 course, Ralph did not hear that ; he merely received 
 a vague and courteous note. An editor regrets'' 
 mechanically ; he regrets " that he cannot make 
 use of a story that he does not like ; he regrets" 
 that the manuscript he has kept for a year has not 
 appeared yet, when he apprises the contributor 
 that it will be paid for on the thirtieth day of the 
 second month after publication ; and the editor 
 of The Other Side regretted to inform Mr. Ling- 
 ham that arrangements were being made which 
 would prevent their retaining his services later 
 than the 3rd proximo. 
 
 The loss of two guineas a week could scarcely 
 have been a greater shock to anybody. The bolt 
 fell from the blue of August, and now the corre- 
 spondent s capital was about thirty-five pounds. 
 He had often had considerably less, and esteemed 
 himself well provided for ; but then he had been 
 a bachelor. Thirty-five pounds, a comedy likely 
 to be rejected at the Pall Mall, and an inchoate 
 novel in his head. And he had a wife to keep ! 
 He smoked hard. 
 
 How long do you reckon the novel will take 
 to write ? she asked, rallying. 
 
 ''Nine months, I'm afraid. I've never been 
 able to write one more quickly yet. Of course, 
 if the last has sold decently we can jog along for 
 
 188 
 
Out o' the Window 
 
 nine months — there will be royalties to come to 
 us in October. But if it hasn't, I don't see at 
 the moment what we are going to do. It evi- 
 dently hasn't been a boom. . . . Still, we won't howl 
 yet. I must tear the plot out as soon as I can, 
 and we'll listen to the flattering tale of hope. 
 . . . Well, I suppose we had better go back to 
 London, eh, pard.^ Nobody wants us here." 
 
 There seems nothing to stay for," she assented 
 slowly. Till then she had not recognised the 
 fact, and the crash reverberated. 
 
 Nothing. Besides in London I can bustle 
 about Angela — and save the difference between 
 the postage rates ! A penny saved is something 
 — proverbial." 
 
 Yes, of course," she said. Now the play is 
 done, you ought to be on the spot. And you 
 might get on another paper there." 
 
 I don't think there is much chance of that. 
 The Other Side was a sheer fluke. I might make 
 the attempt, but you could throw a net in Fleet 
 Street and catch a haul of better journalists 
 than I am with your eyes shut ; and all in deep 
 waters." 
 
 ''We shall manage," she said. ''As soon as 
 we get back I shall try for a town engagement. 
 If I get thirty shillings a week, it will be a help." 
 
 189 
 
when Love Flies 
 
 Lingham burnt his fingers with a match. You 
 will what ? " he exclaimed. Good God ! I 
 wouldn't let you go on the stage again for any 
 money that could be named. No, my love ; /'II 
 find the bread and butter, thank you, if I have 
 to kill an editor to do it. The action would be 
 twice blessed. If I were a potentate I would 
 send out emissaries to collect editors, and then 
 I would make a bonfire of them in my park ! " 
 
 If I could get thirty shillings a week in town, 
 look what it would mean to us ! " she persisted. 
 
 There are heaps of married women in the 
 chorus, Ralph; and nice women, too." 
 
 '*Yes, I daresay. IVe no doubt there are 
 plenty of women on the stage whose husbands 
 are content never to do a stroke of work. ' The 
 husband of Milly de Vere ! ' /'m not in that 
 galley. Don't be silly, baby! At the worst I'll 
 go to Alport and ask him to advance fifty pounds 
 on the first two chapters. Where there's a wife, 
 there's a way. Thank goodness there are only 
 two of us to think about ! " 
 
 After this they bought the Telegraph every 
 evening, and scanned the columns headed Board 
 and Apartments to be let." The heat was intense 
 now, and though they were sorry to say 'good- 
 bye ' to Paris, they were not so acutely sorry as 
 
 190 
 
Out o' the Window 
 
 they would have been three months earlier. As 
 the jar of the news subsided, they regained their 
 cheerfulness. Only Madame Goigoux was in- 
 consolable. She protested that she should never 
 forget them ; and if they ever wanted the rooms 
 again — Cest que ge me rendait contente — mais 
 contente ! " But one line, and they should be 
 ready ; yes, even though they were let to un 
 avantage incroyable ! " 
 
 When their plans crystallised, they decided to 
 go into a boarding-house for a few days while 
 they looked for lodgings. On the evening before 
 they crossed they spent ten francs. They couldn't 
 afford it, but it was their last night in Paris ; and 
 they would store another memory ! They went 
 to the Ambassadeurs, and drank iced sirops under 
 the trees ; and then they took their farewell stroll 
 along the boulevards, and syphons made music 
 for them again outside the Cafe de la Paix. But 
 who admits that he bids ''farewell" to Paris? 
 
 We shall often come back,'' they said, as they 
 sat there ; very likely we shall run over soon ! " 
 And then, as they passed the shining courtyard 
 of the 'Grand,' "Perhaps Angela will make thou- 
 sands for us ; we may come over in the spring, 
 and stay at the ' Grand ' ! " 
 
 It was hot in London, too, when they arrived, 
 191 
 
when Love Flies 
 
 though cooler than it had been in Paris. After 
 the Swiss youth had handed round the coffee, 
 they left the boarding-house, and walked down 
 Bedford Place. The moon looked the same as it 
 had looked the night before. They would have 
 felt less sad if it had looked different. They were 
 very lonely in the long, gaunt streets. They had 
 come home, but they were ''homesick." A regret 
 which each strove to hide from the other filled 
 the man with forebodings, and brought a lump to 
 the girl's throat. How colourless everything was! 
 She had noticed it in the drive from Victoria. 
 The grim frontages, the mean, flat windows, the 
 dreary faces of the people moving in the half-lit 
 streets reminded her of the comments of Le 
 Beau. Dear little salon in la Rue Poncelet ! 
 There would be no lamp in it to-night ; it was 
 standing empty and dark ! 
 
 At the dressing-table of the bedroom it was 
 almost impossible for Lingham to work, and time 
 pressed, so they made haste to seek more per- 
 manent quarters. The gentility of the advertisers 
 in the Telegraph, which forbade them to cite their 
 terms, intensified the difficulty of discovering 
 suitable lodgings at a satisfactory rent, and 
 ''moderate'' in London proved to be quite as 
 deceptive as "charming" had been in Paris. He 
 
 192 
 
Out o' the Window 
 
 and Meenie had agreed that they would be wise 
 to ring bells within walking distance, instead of 
 paying fares to make inquiries in Clapham and 
 Shepherd's Bush, and eventually they rang one 
 in Gower Street. 
 
 The arrangement proposed here was on much 
 the same lines as the one they had had with 
 Madame Goigoux, only they were to take their 
 meals in the landlady's room. They did not 
 object to the suggestion at all, for it would avert 
 the rattling of cutlery over Lingham while he 
 was trying to write. She was a rather pretty 
 little brunette, smartly dressed, and perhaps just 
 touched with rouge. They understood her name 
 to be Mrs. Kisch, but, being an Hungarian, she 
 spelt it '*Kiss." Her English, though it lacked 
 adverbs, was fluent, and she explained, with 
 animation, that she would accept three pounds 
 ten a week inclusive of board, because she was 
 trying to dispose of the business, and did not 
 want her apartments to be vacant just now. 
 
 They moved in at once, and occupied two com- 
 municating rooms on the first floor. Certainly 
 the construction was ridiculous ; the sitting-room 
 was so small that they had to squeeze round the 
 table, while the bedroom, overlooking back gar- 
 dens, was as wide as the house, with three long 
 N 193 
 
When Love Flies 
 
 windows ; but for Gower Street the terms were 
 extremely low. 
 
 When they went down to dinner on the first 
 evening they found Mrs. Kiss in a low-necked 
 gown — dispensing the whiting — and a miniature 
 man, whom they seemed to be viewing through 
 the wrong end of an opera glass, prepared to 
 take her to the theatre. His name was Mr. 
 Friedman, they learnt ; and on the morrow Mrs. 
 Kiss confided to Meenie that she was' going to 
 be married to him, and that his parents, who 
 lived in Hamburg, thought it very wrong for 
 him to be lodging here in the meanwhile. She 
 hoped, with appealing eyes, that Meenie did not 
 think so too. The poor fellow was a stranger 
 in London, and she was *'so dreadful sorry for 
 him ! Emmie, the housemaid, subsequently 
 implied a different story, but one should never 
 listen to the gossip of servants. 
 
 The day after the incoming Ralph called on 
 his publishers, to ascertain how much money he 
 was likely to receive the following month. To 
 his dismay he learnt that the sale of the book 
 had so disappointed the firm that they were out 
 of pocket by the hundred pounds which had 
 been paid to him on account. The fate of the 
 piece at the Pall Mall was therefore an urgent 
 
 194 
 
Out o' the Window 
 
 matter, and as soon as he returned he wrote to 
 the manager giving him the new address, and 
 inquiring if he had had time to read it yet. The 
 question remained unanswered, but the next 
 afternoon the four attractive acts with pink bows 
 came back. Evidently/' said Meenie, ^'he has 
 no^ read them.'' She packed them up again 
 without loss of time, and they were despatched 
 to the Sovereignty. 
 
 There was a little furrow on the girls brow 
 that night when she went down to dinner, and 
 the man looked thoughtful. Mrs. Kiss was 
 decked with flowers which Mr. Friedman had 
 sent home to console her for his detention in the 
 city ; and she told them, in her pretty artless 
 way, that her claret came from a friend in the 
 trade, and she could let them have it at a 
 shilling a bottle if they liked, but that they 
 mustn't mention the price they were paying, be- 
 cause she charged her lover one-and-ninepence. 
 After dinner Ralph drove a lazy pen. 
 
 The circumstances were not favourable to the 
 invention of a plot. The knowledge that they 
 would have spent their last pound in about six 
 weeks, unless something unexpected happened, 
 was not stimulating to the imagination. The 
 opening chapter of the indeterminate novel was 
 
 195 
 
when Love Flies Out o' the Window 
 
 progressing by such painful steps that he couldn't 
 help dwelling more on the comedy that was 
 finished than on the task which had to be done. 
 He had never commenced a story hitherto until 
 the scheme was clear in his mind ; and to make 
 people talk before he was certain what roles 
 they were going to play affrighted him. From 
 Bedford Place he had forwarded Meenie s copy 
 of Angela Brown to Parlett, and he was eager 
 to have his opinion of it now that the manuscript 
 was complete. The following morning he be- 
 took himself to his friend's to be encouraged. 
 
 196 
 
CHAPTER XVII 
 
 ARLETT lived in Belsize Avenue. He 
 had made a fortune by his plays, and spent 
 
 it ; to-day he was making a large income, and 
 spent that. His coupe was as smart a little 
 equipage as could be built ; his horses were the 
 envy of his neighbours, and his coachman did 
 such credit to the livery that, though he always 
 failed to find the stage-doors, and met remon- 
 strance by the retort that he had been used to 
 driving in Belgravia, the dramatist hadn't the 
 courage to discharge him. 
 
 The house-servants were all women ; and so 
 trim and neat were they, so immaculately was 
 the silver kept, and so blooming" were the 
 window-boxes, that no stranger would have 
 believed it to be a bachelor s residence. When 
 the parlour-maid admitted Ralph, she exclaimed : 
 
 *'Oh, Mr. Lingham, sir, you are a stranger! 
 Master's in the study being shaved. He'll be 
 so pleased you've come." 
 
 How is he, Annie ? " he asked. 
 
 She shook her cap dolefully. Dr. Hutton is 
 197 
 
when Love Flies 
 
 in there ; he calls just the same, sir. Master s 
 been very bad lately." 
 
 Parlett was seated in a chair with a towel 
 round his neck, and while the hairdressers 
 assistant trimmed his beard, the medical man 
 was listening sympathetically to an account of 
 his dyspepsia. He had listened to it once or 
 twice a week for ten years. At Lingham s 
 entrance he looked relieved. The playwright 
 tendered a languid hand, which contrasted oddly 
 with the pleasure in his eyes, and began to put 
 questions. He had a habit of referring to 
 intimate matters before strangers as freely as the 
 lady who couldn't regard a servant as a man 
 admitted the flunkey to her bathroom ; some of 
 his inquiries, especially those he made after the 
 doctor had taken his departure, were discom- 
 posing. 
 
 However, he thought well of Angela Brown — 
 Publisher, and that was a huge relief. 
 
 What have you done with it ? he asked. 
 ''Its at the Sovereignty now ; it came back 
 from the Pall Mall the other day. Do you think 
 I shall place it ? 
 
 Ask me another,*' said the man of experience. 
 ^'Whats the good of writing a play without a 
 commission, anyhow ? All these theatres have 
 
 198 
 
Out the Window 
 
 got their arrangements made for two or three 
 years ahead. You want to be in the swim to 
 place a play." One of his mannerisms was to 
 emphasise words in falsetto. If you aren't in 
 the swim you ve got to dodge about, and find 
 out where there's a hitch, and jump in where 
 there's a failure. You can't place a play as you 
 can a novel, through the post. . . . Good-bye, 
 Sweeney Tod." The barber went out, grinning. 
 
 **What did you advise me to write it for 
 then } " said Lingham. 
 
 ^^Oh, don't be a fool," replied Parlett. 'Mf 
 I had choked you off, what would you have 
 said.f^ You would always have reproached me. 
 You would have said, ' It might have been a 
 great success, and you wouldn't let me write it.'" 
 Rot ! " returned Lingham sourly. Well, 
 how are you?" 
 
 Parlett banged himself in the stomach. ''I'm 
 swollen," he said, swollen! As soon as I eat 
 I get big. Look at my waistcoat ; I can't get 
 a finger under it ! It hung on me when I came 
 down this morning. Nobody knows what agony 
 I'm in; my life is a curse. I've a comic 
 opera to deliver directly, and not half of it is 
 done. The company is engaged ! the composer 
 is waiting for the lyrics! and I can't write — I 
 
 199 
 
When Love Flies 
 
 can't think! How can I work when I'm in pain 
 all day ? You don't suffer from dyspepsia, do 
 you ? " 
 
 Lingham shook his head. ''Not from that." 
 
 Parlett looked disappointed. I don't know," 
 he said with a groan, I don't know what will 
 be the end. I see nothing before me. When a 
 man's health is gone he's ruined. I shall die 
 in the workhouse. My God ! I shall die in the 
 workhouse. There's nothinof to smile at. Here's 
 a bill for — for five pounds come in ; I shall never 
 make five pounds again. It's a very serious state 
 of things, boy! It's all right for you; your ex- 
 penses aren't like mine. I paid Bird a hundred 
 pounds yesterday. It's a lot of money." 
 What Bird Your collaborator ? " 
 
 '' Yes, the piece I did with him is running in 
 New York now ; I got a draft for two hundred 
 the other day for fees. I paid Bird a hundred 
 pounds yesterday." 
 
 " You mean that his work paid him. In other 
 words, you and he have been having a jolly good 
 week together ! " 
 
 '' I paid Bird a hundred pounds yesterday," 
 reiterated Parlett, sunk in gloom. ''A hundred 
 pounds is a lot of money. It's all right for you ; 
 yours is an ideal existence ! " 
 
 200 
 
Out o' the Window 
 
 Lingham did not speak. 
 
 ''An ideal existence! In nice lodgings, with 
 a little wife to talk to in the evening — beautiful ! 
 Bohemian ! I can't afford to marry. I see 
 nobody, I go nowhere ; I haven't been to the 
 Cafe Royal for a month.'' From the falsetto his 
 voice dropped to a deep declamatory pathos. I 
 sit here alone at night, Ralph, in this great silent 
 house, with the wind wailing in the chimney, and 
 I think that I would give all my miserable life 
 to know, but for one hour, the joy of health and 
 love." His arm, extended in a dramatic gesture, 
 remained outstretched ; it was evident that his 
 words had recalled a pleasanter theme to his 
 mind. A smile lit his face ; in an instant he was 
 a lad — eager, delightful. Let me read you a 
 lyric I've written for the opera! "he exclaimed, 
 bustling. * O joy of love, O love avowed ' — 
 I want to hear what you think." 
 
 He showered manuscripts all over the desk, 
 but could not see the one he was seeking. The 
 parlour-maid, and then a lady stenographer, were 
 summoned to hunt for it, and at last it was found 
 in a pocket in his bedroom. 
 
 Like Lingham he was passionately fond of 
 music, but had neither a musical ear, nor a note 
 in his voice. He chanted the lyric in a dis- 
 
 20I 
 
when Love Flies 
 
 cordant quaver which he believed to be the 
 composer s setting. 
 
 When he finished he raised a questioning gaze. 
 The lines are very pretty indeed. How about 
 the dialogue ; is that good ? 
 
 ' O joy of love, O love avowed ' — see how 
 they open the mouth ! Wait a minute ! I must 
 read you my patriotic song. I haven't done the 
 second verse yet ; this is the first — 
 
 " * We have sung to the peril and pluck of the tar, 
 
 And weVe toasted our Tommy in red, 
 But it's women who make them the men that they are. 
 
 And now here's to our women instead ! 
 Oh, it's well that old England should ring with a lay 
 
 To the heroes who carry her guns, 
 But let's gather a spray of the laurel and bay 
 
 For the women who give her the sons ! ' 
 
 Now comes the refrain — 
 
 " ' For the women of England, 
 
 And all the land ! 
 To the women of England, 
 
 Our hat in hand ! 
 For they're loyal and they're game. 
 And they build their boys the same ; 
 
 It's our women make the little island grand.' " 
 
 ''I don t like 'Our hat in hand,'" said Lingham. 
 
 Parlett, who was red in the face, for he had 
 imagined himself the baritone, and had been 
 acting the song as well as shouting it, made a 
 
 202 
 
Out o' the Window 
 
 cross against the line. The almost childish 
 humility with which he accepted anybody's 
 criticism of his work and his faults was one 
 of his most lovable traits. 
 
 It isn't good," he said, ''but I couldn't find a 
 better rhyme to 'land' and * grand.' I think 
 that ought to be an encore, eh? The women 
 will like that. ' It's our women make the little 
 island grand ! ' " he shouted again. 
 
 ''/had an idea for a lyric the other day," said 
 Lingham, "only I don't write comic operas. The 
 heroine's sweetheart is a sailor, and she sings to 
 one of those spiral shells — 
 
 " *0h, silver shell from the something shore, 
 With the roar of the sea inside you.' 
 
 " She holds it to her ear, and wonders how 
 her gallant William fares, and whether there's a 
 storm. You know!" 
 
 "It would look rather as if she'd got an ear- 
 trumpet up, wouldn't it ? " said Parlett doubtfully. 
 "How do you like my title, A Ring d Roses ? 
 I use the nursery rhyme — 
 
 " *A ring, a ring o' roses, 
 A pocketful o' posies, 
 Atishoo ! Atishoo ! 
 We all fall down/ 
 
 "All the girls fall into the pages' arms. That's 
 
 203 
 
when Love Flies 
 
 going to be a big number. Vanderhoff has got 
 some new effect in the orchestra for the sneeze/' 
 
 ''Where is this masterpiece to be produced?" 
 Liverpool, my boy, in November, if I ever 
 get through ! Well, tell me about yourself. 
 When am I going to see your wife ? 
 Come to see us as soon as you can.'' 
 
 *' I never go ou^,'' cried Parlett ; I never have 
 ^zme to go out ! I haven't seen my horses for 
 a week ; they're eating their heads off. That 
 damned coachman has just had the stables done 
 up, too ; I told him to have his rooms put right. 
 My God, he's had his parlour papered in pink 
 and gold! I can never /^jk for it! Here I am, 
 a swollen, helpless wreck, toiling till three in the 
 morning to meet my taxes — to meet my ^azes, 
 Ralph ! — and the coachman has his parlour 
 papered in pink and gold ! Oh, it's cruel, it's 
 cruel, it's cruel, it's heart-breaking! " He clasped 
 his hands and gibbered over them. 
 
 ''If you never see your horses, and you're so 
 hard up, why not sell them?" suggested Lingham. 
 
 " I never sold a horse or a dog in my life. 
 Will you bring her to lunch to-day — your wife, 
 I mean? I wonder whether I'm lunching at 
 home. Where's Annie ? " 
 
 In five years' intimate acquaintance Lingham 
 204 
 
Out o' the Window 
 
 had never seen him ring a bell, and now he went 
 to the top of the kitchen stairs to inquire whether 
 he was expected to lunch at home. His luncheons, 
 which he generally took at restaurants, were in 
 truth his dinners, for at seven o'clock he sat down 
 to work, and a heavy meal in the evening would 
 have made him lazy. 
 
 He learnt that overnight he had expressed the 
 intention of lunching out to-day unless it rained, 
 and he immediately begged Ralph to bring his 
 wife to Dolibo s. Though Lingham was afraid 
 that Meenie would feel misgivings about her 
 costume, he consented, and Parlett telephoned to 
 the stables that the victoria was to come round at 
 once. Annie, as usual, buttoned his boots. 
 
 They drove to Gower Street together, with 
 Angela on the back seat, and Lingham was 
 proud to see the impression that Meenie created 
 as soon as she recovered from her surprise. 
 Parlett was prepared to rave about any woman 
 at sight, but this was evidently more than tran- 
 sient approval. With the sitting-room, abounding 
 in defects — boards that started under the foot, 
 and let off reports like the crack of a rifle ; a 
 table that groaned when one wrote at it — he was 
 charmed. The girl, who did not know him, 
 thought he was carrying courtesy too far when 
 
 205 
 
when Love Flies 
 
 he declared enviously that here his ideas would 
 flow like wine from a cask. But he was quite 
 sincere — while he spoke — and almost believed 
 that his horses, and his house, and the luxuries 
 that he was slaving and ruining his health to 
 retain, were worthless to him. 
 
 From the restaurant he insisted on their return- 
 ing to Belsize Avenue to tea, and when they 
 entered they found Mr. Vanderhoff awaiting him. 
 It was an exciting experience to her to loll in 
 Spencer Parletts drawing-room, and listen to 
 Albert Vanderhoff strumming snatches of his 
 operas. She smiled in contrasting the situation 
 with the way she might have met them both a 
 year ago. With what awe she would have ad- 
 dressed them then ! And Albert Vanderhoff 
 passed the cake to her ! They were quite simple, 
 quite like anybody else. 
 
 She wondered if Parlett knew that she had 
 been in the profession," but presently he asked 
 her if she sang, and she understood that Lingham 
 had not told him. 
 
 Yes,'' she said, but not here ! " 
 
 He burlesqued an attitude of deprecation. 
 Vanderhoff could do no less than offer to accom- 
 pany her ; and as Lingham evidently wished her 
 to accede, she went to the piano. The moselle- 
 
 206 
 
Out o' the Window 
 
 cup at Dolibo s had been good, and she was 
 exhilarated by her social success. When the 
 composer asked her what she would sing, she 
 had the courage to name a ballad out of his and 
 Parletts Flo de Cologne. Instantly he was all 
 attention, and Parlett, who justly believed that 
 ballad to contain the best love verses he had 
 ever written, looked as interested as a child at 
 the pantomime. 
 
 She had quite a triumph, even after she allowed 
 a discount for politeness. Vanderhoff paid her 
 compliments in his foreign English, and Parlett, 
 who of course regarded her from the standpoint 
 of the librettist, waxed enthusiastic. 
 
 But, my boy, my boy," he cried to Lingham, 
 *'the feeling, the sentiment! And every word 
 tells — she gives every word its value I Its a 
 pleasure to hear her, it s a delight. She ought 
 to have been on the stage. What do you say, 
 Albert ? Wouldn't she have made a career ^ 
 Wouldn't she have been a treat to write for ? " 
 
 Vanderhoff admitted that Madame had a very 
 sympathetic voice. 
 
 But she's an actress ! " He turned to Meenie. 
 
 You don't know that ; / watched your face ! 
 You speak with your face. You're very clever, 
 you're an artist ; you've got it here ! " 
 
 207 
 
when Love Flies 
 
 My wife has been on the stage," murmured 
 Lingham ; ''but not for long ; only for a year or 
 two/' 
 
 ''Aha!'' Parlett spread his arms, as one who 
 says, " Behold my intuition ! " 
 
 " I never did any good," laughed Meenie ; " the 
 other people didn't agree with you ! " 
 
 He tapped his chest and held up three fingers. 
 " Three ! " he said. " Three women I've brought 
 to the front out of the ranks. That's my gift ; 
 it's a peculiar gift of mine. Do you know that ? 
 I can see an extra-girl cross the stage, and spot 
 it if she has talent. It's a wonderful faculty 
 I have. Do you know that, Ralph ? Not many 
 men have got it. It's a very highly developed 
 nervous sensibility. I respond. Just in the same 
 way I have an extraordinary power of communi- 
 cating emotion. Do you know that, Albert? 
 It's inborn. You can't acquire it. It astonishes 
 people." 
 
 At this point Mr. Vanderhoff, who, being a 
 musician, had his own vanities, struck loud 
 chords to call attention to himself, and with 
 profound emotion, but a small voice, sang another 
 of his compositions. 
 
 Though Lingham and Meenie soon rose to go, 
 it was he who left first. The dramatist had five 
 
 208 
 
Out o' the Window 
 
 minutes' conference with him in the hall ; then, 
 returning to the room, was seized with a desire 
 to take a stroll before he went to his desk. 
 
 In the warm twilight the three sauntered to 
 the Heath. Already he appeared to her a mass 
 of contradictions, and now, if she had been un- 
 married, the girl would have allowed herself to 
 fall in love with him. The ardour with which 
 he spoke of other men s work, and the modesty 
 with which he judged his own, was startling ; she 
 thought at first he must be in jest. The poetry in 
 the man, his enthusiasms, made his companionship 
 in some of his moods ideal. More widely read 
 than many w^ho posed as cultured, he seemed to 
 her to be steeped in the literature of the world ; 
 yet withal he was a boy. When he quoted, it was 
 never the delivery of a scholar being instructive, 
 but the leaping utterance of an artist, young, fer- 
 vent, Bohemian, glowing at the city from an attic 
 window, with a pen, and a brave heart. 
 
 To talk to him often stimulated Lingham. It 
 stimulated him this evening. When they got 
 back to the lodging, he made a dash at the diffi- 
 culties of Chapter I., and completed it to his 
 satisfaction before he went to bed. Moreover, 
 he decided to ask the publishers for an advance 
 of fifty pounds immediately. Why wait? It 
 o 209 
 
When Love Flies 
 
 would be a distasteful errand, but there was 
 small doubt that it would have to be accom- 
 plished sooner or later, and the knowledge of 
 being secure for a few months would be fortifying. 
 
 ''Though even fifty pounds,'' he said, ''won't 
 keep us going till the book is done. With what 
 we have left we shall be able to go on for — how 
 long, pard ? " 
 
 She was rather worse at arithmetic than he, 
 and her pencil never had a point to it. Notice- 
 able peculiarities : her pencil never had a point, 
 and her purse was always in the pocket of a skirt 
 that she hadn't got on. After ten minutes, how- 
 ever, she announced that with an addition of 
 fifty pounds they could pay their way for about 
 five months. 
 
 "And in five months," she said, "anything 
 may happen ! Besides, they might let you have 
 more if you asked for it." 
 
 "They have lost money over the last one ; 
 I don't think they'd feel inclined to part with 
 a hundred again. And then, that was finished 
 when I got the hundred ; no, I think fifty is all 
 I can ask for ; I daresay I shall get that." 
 
 One is often sanguine at night. When he 
 shaved, he was less confident. He wished that 
 he had broached the subject when he called upon 
 
 2IO 
 
Out o' the Window 
 
 them earlier in the week ; in conversation he 
 could have approached it gradually, and now 
 he would have to blurt it out. He breakfasted 
 without relish, and upstairs Meenie hung about 
 him, and wished him luck. 
 
 When he reached the offices of Messrs. Alport 
 and Son, one of the clerks whistled through a 
 tube, and requested him to take a seat until 
 Mr. Alport, junr., was disengaged. The father 
 seldom came to town now. There was a girl 
 with a pale face, and a parcel, waiting too — a 
 beginner, tremulous, shabby, full of illusions yet, 
 nursing her first novel with unspoken prayers. 
 Presently the clerk came back, and said, " Will 
 you step this way, Mr. Lingham?'' And the girl 
 flashed a curious glance — half admiration and 
 half envy — as the name fell. It was rather 
 piteous. Lingham wondered whether she could 
 be much worse off than he was. 
 
 Mr. Alport was a man of about Lingham s own 
 age, with the Oxford voice and literary tastes. 
 As the girl had envied the novelist, the novelist 
 had often envied his publisher ; and the young 
 man with the money had also his struggles. He 
 struggled with a temperament. His destiny was 
 to conduct a business on strictly commercial lines, 
 and to know that behind his back he was abused 
 
 211 
 
When Love Flies 
 
 by writers whom he would have been glad to call 
 his friends. 
 
 He offered the author a cigarette, and motioned 
 to an armchair, which was associated in his mind 
 with many distressing interviews. Lingham 
 cleared his throat. 
 
 You didn t expect to see me again so soon, 
 Mr. Alport ? he said, balancing his hat on his 
 knee. 
 
 Tm always pleased to have a visit from you, 
 Mr. Lingham.'' 
 
 I looked in because IVe a book on the stocks. 
 Heaven alone knows whether it will sell, but 
 I think it is going to be all right." 
 
 Is the brutal middleman to hear what the 
 theme is ? " 
 
 Yes, I want to talk about it." He gave an 
 outline. The tale sounded very bald to him, 
 reduced to halting words, but Mr. Alport listened 
 attentively, and nodded. 
 
 ''As you observe," he said, ''only Heaven can 
 answer for the public ! Of course, it s excellent ; 
 you get to the heart of things, as you always do. 
 I look forward to reading it. If everybody ad- 
 mired your work as much as I do, Mr. Lingham, 
 you would find me — like Angela Brown — an ideal 
 publisher." 
 
 212 
 
Out o' the Window 
 
 ''Would you care to give me a commission to 
 write it ? asked Lingham, stroking his hat the 
 wrong way. 
 
 Mr. Alport winced. He drew a diagram on 
 the blotting-pad. 
 
 We shall see it, I suppose he said. You 
 mean to give us the first refusal of it, I hope ? " 
 His tone was really a plea to the other not to say 
 any more ; and Lingham understood it, and 
 cursed the poverty that drove him on. 
 
 I should like the commission," he said. '' In 
 plain English, I want fifty pounds on the signing 
 of the contract. You can't lose by that! If the 
 thing sells well or not, you are bound to get fifty 
 pounds back.'' 
 
 To the store of Alport s painful memories the 
 armchair had contributed another. He shook his 
 head. 
 
 "When its finished," he murmured, I have 
 very little doubt we shall be able to meet your 
 views. You know we have always done our best." 
 You can't meet them now, eh ? " 
 
 '' I am afraid not. With every wish to be 
 amiable, I am afraid I can't. Forgive my saying 
 so, but your hand might lose its cunning ; the 
 plot, after all, is only the peg to hang one's ideas 
 on. If you will bring us the story when it is 
 
 213 
 
when Love Flies 
 
 done, Mr. Lingham, you shall have an answer 
 within three days/' He rose. I trust we shall 
 be able to make a better arrangement for you 
 than the one you are suggesting/' 
 
 The pale-faced girl was waiting still, and again 
 she regarded the author jealously. 
 
 He tramped back in the blaze of noon to Gower 
 Street. His wife was at the window ; she knew 
 that he had failed by the way his figure drooped. 
 All the morning she had considered his coming 
 home so ; all the morning she had been chafing 
 her courage to combat his objections and to cut 
 the knot. 
 
 ''It didn't come off," he said. Don't worry, 
 darling ; we shall get through somehow ! " 
 
 ''Neither of us is going to worry," she answered 
 brightly. " It's just a tangle for a minute, and 
 if we're sensible, and chummy, and work together, 
 we shall straighten it out. Ralph, you must go 
 and ask Mr. Parlett to give me a part in his 
 opera. It's no good saying you won't ; you must. 
 You heard what he said ; ask him to give me 
 a part. When we're in smooth waters again, 
 I'll give it up if you want me to ; I'm not 
 ambitious any more. But I'm not going to sit 
 down and see you grow grey with anxiety when 
 I can help it. If you don't go to him, / shall ! " 
 
 He kissed her, and told her that the company 
 214 
 
Out o' the Window 
 
 was already formed, and that Parlett wouldn^t 
 entrust a part to a novice, even if he were asked ; 
 but she stood firm. 
 
 "Try," she entreated. 
 Meenie," he exclaimed doggedly, ^* I won't 
 have you go back to the stage ! " 
 
 But it s necessary. Oh, my dear ! " — she 
 clung to him — ''is this marriage, is it fair to me? 
 You call me your ' pard,' and you won't let me 
 help in our home ! Its the only way ; can't you 
 see that it's the only way ? Let us go through 
 life hand-in-hand, dear ! " 
 
 Then he caught her close, but still he refused. 
 It isn't the only way," he said ; ''it shan't be 
 the only way ! We have over five weeks, and I 
 can get money as soon as the book is done. Very 
 well, then, I'll do it in five weeks ! If I work day 
 and night, if I never eat, if I never sleep, I '11 do 
 it in the time, by God ! " 
 
 "This isn't marriage," she stammered. 
 
 "It's me!" he cried, ungrammatical and white. 
 "Help me, don't stop me, let me go on ! I'll write 
 as long as I can write. Other men could do it, 
 why shouldn't I ? Promise ! Give me your word 
 you'll do nothing without my consent ! " 
 
 So she promised. But she wondered why man's 
 love and woman's should be such different things. 
 
 215 
 
CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 A BELL hung outside their door. Mrs. Kiss 
 used it to call Emmie downstairs when she 
 was wanted. All day long, while he drove his 
 pen, that bell pealed through his brain. During 
 five weeks it seemed to him that it was never 
 still, for when he slept at last it clashed in his 
 dreams. To the furious pealing of that accursed 
 bell he wrote his novel at the table that groaned 
 and squeaked. And because he had sworn never 
 to oro to bed until he had covered the rigrht num- 
 ber of pages, the book was done in time. He 
 praised God, and damned the novel. 
 
 It was done ! And though it was unworthy of 
 him, though he had sacrificed psychology to 
 speed, it was not contemptible. He sent it to 
 Mr. Alport by express delivery, with a line 
 reminding him of his promise. 
 
 It was done! That he would execrate it for 
 his sufferings as long as he should live, that it 
 had been brought forth with blood and sweat, 
 that he would never see its cover without shud- 
 dering in remembrance, didn't matter. But he 
 
 216 
 
when Love Flies Out o' the Window 
 
 winced to know that some of the reviewers would 
 sneer at him because he had to earn a living. 
 
 Mr. Lingham has a shrewd sense of what the 
 public wants" — he knew somebody would say that. 
 How easy to disdain other people s necessities ! 
 It was only by the public favour he could hold 
 his wife. 
 
 In this world nobody is ever in the wrong, as 
 his lights display the situation ; nobody s attitude 
 is ever so indefensible that he isn't perfectly 
 justified according to his own view ; and no 
 marriage service can make man and woman's 
 standpoints one. Meenie had suffered also 
 during these five weeks. She had been con- 
 demned to watch the husband she loved strug- 
 gling with a task that strained him to the edge 
 of collapse because he was too proud to accept 
 her aid, and she felt that, for once, he had been 
 small. Lingham felt that he was taking the only 
 manly course. The thought of allowing his wife 
 to return to the burlesque stage, of weathering a 
 storm by means of her voice and her short skirts, 
 horrified him. Quite naturally he harped on the 
 short skirts ; they were tangible, a legitimate 
 grievance. But as no one is ever wrong to him- 
 self, so no one is ever quite candid. He shrank 
 from more than her wearing short skirts ; he 
 
 217 
 
When Love Flies 
 
 shrank from dofifing his own plumes. It is much 
 easier to make a present gracefully than to accept 
 one well ; far easier to lend with cordiality than 
 to borrow without embarrassment. The great 
 soul is not his who can be generous, but his who 
 can profit by generosity without resenting it. Of 
 such souls there are very few, if all secrets were 
 unveiled. The self-respecting man is angry with 
 fate, and gradually fate is represented by his 
 friend. It had been facile to Lingham to pluck 
 the girl from want and play the hero ; but before 
 they had been married a year, to eat the bread of 
 her providing without bitterness — he hadn't the 
 stomach to do that. 
 
 On the tension fell a double knock. Mr. Alport 
 had been as good as his word, and written within 
 three days. He did not write what he thought, 
 that the story was below the author's standard ; 
 he said it was ''a departure from his usual style.'' 
 For that reason the firm were somewhat doubtful 
 of the way it would be received. They would be 
 glad to publish the book on the same terms as the 
 last, but he sincerely regretted to say that they 
 were unable to offer any sum on account of 
 royalties. 
 
 Lingham had grabbed the letter from the 
 housemaid's tray, and he read it aloud in a harsh 
 
 218 
 
Out o' the Window 
 
 voice. When he ceased, neither he nor Meenie 
 spoke for quite a minute. He folded the letter in 
 three again, and crossed the room, and dropped 
 the paper on the mantelpiece. Still she could 
 find no comment. She put her arms round his 
 neck in silence, and laid her cheek against his 
 face. Because she had been blaming him she 
 sorrowed for him now more vehemently. She 
 was stricken for him ; the blow was brutal ; those 
 awful weeks, those inexorable, relentless weeks 
 for nothing! The double knocks came faintly 
 from the distance. . . . 
 
 He s a gentleman," he said at last. ''Of 
 course, the thing is muck — he doesn't say so ! 
 
 The woman in her found voice : 
 He is mean," she cried, ''mean ! He doesn't 
 want to pay ! " 
 
 They stood looking vaguely from the window 
 at the crawling hansoms, and the errand-boys. 
 Both were dominated by a thought they would 
 not utter yet. The man could not bring him- 
 self to admit his helplessness ; his wife knew that 
 to say, '* You must let me do it, after all, dear," 
 would be to twist the knife in his wound. 
 
 Clinging to straws, he wrote offering to sell the 
 book to the firm outright. He was scarcely dis- 
 appointed next day to hear that they were not 
 
 219 
 
when Love Flies 
 
 prepared to buy it ; he had expected nothing else. 
 That night the thought was spoken. She whis- 
 pered it to him in the dark. And in the morning 
 he went to Parlett. 
 
 Annie, when she let him in, was very pale. 
 She faltered, Look, sir," and looking, he saw a 
 large hole in one of the panes of the swing-doors ; 
 the shattered glass was littering the ground. It 
 was his luck to have come to beg a service at the 
 worst time. 
 
 '^Mr. Parlett?" he asked. 
 
 The girl nodded tremulously. ''And he has 
 broken things in the study. Hes in the dining- 
 room now, sir. I haven't seen him so bad for 
 years." 
 
 He went in, and found Parlett hurrying round 
 the table, with his hands clasped on his head. 
 His face was crimson, and his blue eyes looked 
 as if he had been crying. At Lingham s entrance 
 his pace slackened for an instant, and he tried to 
 smile. 
 
 " Hullo, Ralph ! " he said weakly. How are 
 you, boy ? Sit down. Don't — don't mind me ; 
 I shall be all right as soon as I've worked 
 it off." 
 
 Breakfast was set, but the cup was clean, and 
 the cover was still on the dish. Lingham put no 
 
 220 
 
Out o' the Window 
 
 questions. He filled his pipe, and smoked 
 moodily, while the other rushed round the room 
 talking to a third person who wasn't there. The 
 spectacle would have been comic but for the sobs 
 which in moments broke the mans voice. His 
 great chest heaved, his nostrils quivered ; intermit- 
 tently he did, indeed, try to restrain his hysteria, 
 and then was swept into headlong raving violence 
 by his own address. 
 
 *'You introduced a step-dance into the drama 
 with the best intentions, did you, Mr. Bedbrooke? 
 In your opinion that scene is a good opportunity 
 for a step-dance ? You lying skunk, you ruin the 
 work of my brain to get another round of applause 
 for yourself! Did you write anything about it 
 till I found it out ? No ! No, you never meant 
 me to hear of it. You scoundrel ! You aban- 
 doned, treacherous scoundrel ! If I hadn't seen 
 the notices, I shouldn't have known! In yozir 
 opinion, eh ? Vou have opinions about the 
 Drama to-day, have you, Mr. Bedbrooke? 
 When you were Wang-Tang-Too, the Cannibal 
 King, outside a booth in a fair, with a penn'orth 
 of raw liver in your hand, you had fewer opinions! 
 What do you mean by it ? Eh ? What do you 
 mean?" He stopped at the sideboard, covered 
 three telegraph forms with a message that re- 
 
 221 
 
when Love Flies 
 
 mained unfinished, and pitched the pencil into the 
 grate. Give me some tea ! he said, dropping 
 into his chair. 
 
 Emboldened by Lingham s presence, the maid 
 had stolen in, and as she complied the sugar- 
 tongs fluttered visibly. She displayed a bloater 
 with persuasive murmurs, but Parlett would have 
 none of it, and did no more than gulp the tea. 
 
 All the time he kept talking to Mr. Bedbrooke; 
 and at last Lingham, engrossed by his errand, 
 and impatient to come to the point, flung out — 
 
 If somebody is spoiling your piece, why not 
 tell him he has got to play it properly or give 
 it up?" 
 
 Parlett looked as if a new light had been shed 
 on the subject. Yes,'' he exclaimed, ''he has 
 got to play it properly or give it up ! — Or you've 
 got to give it up, do you hear? Or I'll take 
 it away from you, you rogue — now, right off! 
 you shan't ring the curtain up to-night ! — I let 
 him have it because he came here and pleaded 
 to me ; I let it to him cheap ; I wanted to do the 
 little man a turn. And now he deceives me ! 
 He ruins me ; he turns my drama into a musical 
 comedy — the work of months, of my tortured 
 days and sleepless nights ! " The veins were 
 starting from his forehead. ''You villain! you 
 
 222 
 
Out the Window 
 
 double-faced, dastardly villain ! All alike ! Not 
 a friend in the world ! Not a man straight ! — not 
 one you can trust ! To Hell with the whole 
 blazing lot of them ! " He caught the bloater 
 from the dish and hurled it through the air. It 
 spun to a landscape, glanced off a marble bust, 
 and scattered on the floor ; particles of it splashed 
 the mirror. He bowed his head on his arms and 
 moaned. There was a long silence. Annie 
 moved nervelessly about the room with a 
 serviette, collecting fragments, but they were 
 countless, and clung everywhere. Presently he 
 raised his face, and watched her through wet 
 lashes. 
 
 *'That fish,'' he murmured, seems to have 
 gone farther than any since the miracle. . . . Oh, 
 I am bad, Ralph, bad! Tm getting worse; I 
 shall die in an asylum. IVe broken the glass 
 in the door, and a beauxXivX vase. I usedn't to 
 be so bad as this — I always smashed the cheap 
 things, and now I don't consider." 
 
 ''You could control yourself if you liked," said 
 Lingham. 
 
 " I csinnol. My mother went to her wardrobe 
 before I was born and tore up all her clothes. 
 I was the same as a child . . . and then she used 
 to beat her breast, and say, ^ Poor little Spencer ! 
 
 223 
 
when Love Flies 
 
 Oh, it s all my fault ! * Once I threw a boiled 
 apple pudding at my nurse — it was a terrible 
 affair that ! But not a boiled apple pudding as 
 I get them here ; these people — he glanced at 
 the parlourmaid disparagingly — don't know 
 how to make a boiled pudding. Ann Fidgin, 
 our old cook at home, what puddings she used 
 to make ! A rich, soft, golden apple pudding " — 
 his tone was mellifluous, yet tinged with regret — 
 it gushed a clear, sweet juice, the colour of 
 daffodils. IVe never had them right since. . . . 
 Do you ever wonder what the women who have 
 loved us think of our goings on if they can see 
 down after they die ? I often hope my rages 
 don't upset my mother so much as they did. 
 It wouldn't be Heaven for her, you know, old 
 chap, if she were reproaching herself all the time 
 because she tore up her clothes. I like to think 
 of the dead as Maeterlinck regards God : ' A 
 God who sits smiling on a mountain, and to 
 whom our gravest offences are only as the 
 naughtiness of puppies playing on a hearthrug.' 
 That's how a man wants to think ofj the dead ; 
 it's not a woman's idea. Browning knew the 
 woman's idea — the horrible haunting fear of the 
 wife that, if she dies first, her husband will forget 
 her, and when she's in Heaven the other women 
 
 224 
 
Out o' the Window 
 
 will ' know so much, and talk together ! ' Ah, 
 
 great, great, great ! 
 
 " * And is it not the bitterer to think 
 
 That disengage our hands, and thou wilt sink 
 
 Although thy love was love in very deed ? 
 I know that nature ! Pass a festive day, 
 Thou dost not throw its relic-flower away 
 
 Nor bid its music's loitering echo speed.' 
 
 ' It s music s loitering echo speed ! ' Oh, divine ! 
 
 Gesture came naturally to him when he quoted, 
 and he had been buttering toast, and still held 
 the knife ; yet the fervour of his voice, the 
 intense earnestness of the man, prevented his 
 being ridiculous. His paroxysm was already 
 forgotten ; he was wrapped in pure enjoyment 
 of the poetry. If one of the aspirants who 
 frequently intruded here could have entered now. 
 Spencer Parlett would have confirmed his fanci- 
 ful picture of the Literary Man At Home. 
 
 " ' Re-coin thyself, and give it them to spend, — 
 It all comes to the same thing at the end. 
 
 Since mine thou wast, mine art, and mine shalt be. 
 Faithful or faithless ; sealing up the sum 
 Or lavish of thy treasure, thou must come 
 
 Back to the heart's place here I keep for thee ! ' " 
 
 The knife greased his waistcoat, and he threw 
 it aside and lit a cigar. 
 
 Well, how are you ? he inquired pleasantly ; 
 why don't you talk ? " 
 p 225 
 
when Love Flies 
 
 I haven't had much chance," said Lingham. 
 ''I have come to talk; IVe come to talk on a 
 very serious matter — I want you to do something 
 for me/' 
 
 Parlett was visibly discomposed ; between the 
 effort to be genial, and the terror of being asked 
 for a loan, his face assumed an anguished smile 
 painful to see. 
 
 What's wrong ? " he asked. 
 
 I want an engagement for my wife in A 
 Ring 0 Roses. I can't get any money on my 
 book ; I have no salary, and I have no capital. 
 It's a fine position to be in; I'm prouder of 
 myself than I can say ; but we can't starve — and 
 even if / were willing, I couldn't ask her to 
 starve too — so I have got to let her do some- 
 thing." 
 
 My dear boy ! " exclaimed Parlett, lifting his 
 shoulders, ''my dear boy, the thing is cast. It 
 was cast weeks ago ; the rehearsals begin on 
 Thursday. You should have spoken before." 
 
 ''You said you thought she was clever," 
 muttered Lingham stubbornly ; " why are you 
 frightened to trust her with a part in your own 
 opera ? " 
 
 " Oh, don't talk pickles," said Parlett, flaring 
 up ; "I tell you the company is complete. I 
 
 226 
 
Out o' the Window 
 
 would have trusted her with a small part — you 
 know I would . . . that is if VanderhofF didn't 
 object. There's nothing left to engage except 
 the chorus ; that's no good to you. " 
 
 don't know; I suppose it would be better 
 for her than what she has got." 
 
 Thirty-five shillings a week ! " He smiled. 
 
 "Well, damn it," cried Lingham, I tell you we 
 haven't got anything at all ! You don't seem to 
 understand English. The situation is desperate. 
 Thirty-five shillings a week would keep her, 
 anyhow. The manager pays the fares from 
 place to place, doesn't he ? " 
 
 *'Oh yes. She can have a chorus 'shop' to- 
 morrow, if you like." 
 
 ^''Like'.f^ I don't Mike' it much, my friend. 
 I'd go and mend the road in preference! But 
 they don't want me to mend a road, and it 
 wouldn't keep us if I did. If she gets thirty- 
 five shillings a week, she will be provided for 
 as long as the tour lasts ; / must shift for myself 
 There's nothing half so sweet in life as Love's 
 young dream ! It's a pretty marriage, isn't it ? 
 We shan't have been married a year till the end 
 of next month, and I've got to turn her out to 
 earn her own living. ... Of course, every out- 
 sider who sponges on his wife goes to his pals 
 
 227 
 
When Love Flies 
 
 whining at the cruelty of his fate. I suppose I 
 look as big a cur as anybody ? 
 
 ''You re a very sensitive, morbid sort of 
 ass/' said Parlett reflectively. ''Til make an 
 appointment for her to see the stage-manager 
 to-morrow ; it will save her hanging about on 
 Thursday with the crowd. Til drop you a line 
 to-night." 
 
 It occurred to Lingham that, after all, his 
 poverty was not Parlett s fault. 
 
 " Thank you, old chap," he said, with some 
 degree of heartiness, '' thank you very much. 
 Then I can tell her it is settled ? " 
 
 *' Yes ; tell your wife that if there had been 
 a part open, I should have been delighted to 
 suggest her for it. Well, what shall you do while 
 she is away ? " 
 
 '* I shall take a bedroom somewhere, and try 
 for a job on another paper. Perhaps I might 
 get some reviewing to do. But I don't know 
 any editors ; it will be very difficult. You can't 
 introduce me to anybody, can you ? " 
 
 Editors aren't in my line," said Parlett ; ''I'm 
 not a journalist — you want to get hold of a 
 journalist for that. If you were a doctor, now, 
 I could keep you busy. Oh, my boy, I am ill ! 
 Swollen, swollen ! And look at my hands — that's 
 all gout." 
 
 22§ 
 
Out o' the Window 
 
 He dilated on his complaints eloquently, and 
 on his trials in general. In one minute his 
 visitor s troubles had faded from his mind, and 
 the Universe had dwindled to his own ; in two, 
 he was sighing that Linghams was ''an ideal 
 existence/' 
 
 But when he said that he never sold a horse 
 or a dog, he might have added that he never 
 sold a man ; and Lingham went back to Meenie 
 with the knowledge that Parlett s word was as 
 good as his bond. 
 
 229 
 
CHAPTER XIX 
 
 SO it proved. Mrs. Ralph Lingham was 
 engaged for the tour of A Ring d Roses, 
 and while the husband tramped the wet pave- 
 ments of Fleet Street, the wife was on the stage 
 of the Opera Comique, where the company were 
 rehearsing every day. Once more she was a 
 chorus girl, and again she called herself ''Miss 
 Meenie Weston." 
 
 She had had visions of earning enough for 
 both, and the disappointment had been severe 
 when she learnt that no part was open. Still, 
 from experience she knew that she could live for 
 a pound a week when the tour began, and she 
 meant to send Ralph fifteen shillings every 
 Saturday, though he had insisted that her salary 
 was to be spent on herself. 
 
 In the meantime they left Mrs. Kiss's and 
 rented a top bedroom in Guilford Street, and he 
 pawned his watch and chain for ten pounds. If 
 he could have viewed the crisis with his wife's 
 eyes, the fortnight they spent in that top bed- 
 room would have been happy enough, in spite 
 
 230 
 
when Love Flies Out o' the Window 
 
 of the impending separation. Nor was it wholly 
 melancholy though he could not. He was not 
 able to regard her in the way she wished to be 
 regarded — as a comrade of strength and re- 
 sponsibility equal to his own ; but he admired 
 her spirit too strongly to be candid now that 
 candour could serve no purpose. 
 
 The company departed for Liverpool on a 
 Sunday, and he went to King's Cross to see 
 her off. To him more than to her the twenty 
 minutes in the station were poignant ; to her 
 the platform presented a familiar sight — to him 
 it was painfully strange. The tribe of vociferous 
 women and shabby men ; the gapes of the on- 
 lookers ; the windows of the train plastered with 
 the name of the opera in scarlet capitals, sent 
 his humiliation home to him with a rush. A cad 
 in authority told her curtly in which compartment 
 to sit. There were seven other girls in it — her 
 associates ; they wore cheap finery, and no gloves. 
 The compartment was a babel of bad English. 
 The husband stood at the door to say good-bye. 
 Three of the young women made eyes at him 
 while he waited. Her love was deeper than his, 
 though he was very fond of her, and she had 
 seen all that he strove to hide ; but she did not 
 plumb the depth of his shame as he stood there ; 
 
 231 
 
When Love Flies 
 
 she did not guess how nearly he flung reason to 
 the winds, and snatched her from the train before 
 it could start. 
 
 The flag waved. He forced a farewell smile, 
 and maintained it till she withdrew her head. 
 She had gone ; he was powerless to support her. 
 He walked back under his umbrella abjectly. 
 But for the abasement of poverty to-day, it was 
 as if his bachelorship had been revived. He 
 had known Guilford Street for fifteen years — 
 lived in a dozen of its lodgings — and, after the 
 embryonic hotel at the corner, it wore the old 
 familiar aspect ; the road was being pulled up, 
 and the houses were being pulled down. The 
 ''single room'' to which he was to be transferred 
 now that he was alone — how many such ''single 
 rooms " had he occupied in his life ! Yes, he was 
 fond of her, but the proof that his marriage had 
 been a madness was overwhelming. He had no 
 wish to avail himself of the privileges of marriage 
 and to escape its duties. 
 
 On Tuesday evening the drudge brought up 
 a letter from her and a packet forwarded by 
 Mrs. Kiss. He learnt by the letter that the 
 opera had scored a great success, and found by 
 the package that the manager of the Sovereignty 
 had no use for his play. He read it through 
 
 232 
 
Out o' the Window 
 
 again ; he could not think that it was bad. On 
 the other side of a locked door was the apart- 
 ment of two counter-jumpers from Regent Street. 
 All the evening, while he read, they told each 
 other amusing anecdotes in gruff voices, and ex- 
 pressed their sense of humour with their feet. 
 Their stamping drove him wild, and he asked 
 God how a man who lived in lodgings could be 
 expected to write. In the morning he asked the 
 landlady. She said young men would be young 
 men. She was unusual only inasmuch as she 
 was honest — she had not been in the business 
 long. It had been raining for three weeks, and 
 he remarked, filthy climate, Mrs. Watkins ! " 
 as she let him out. She said, Lor , Mr. Ling- 
 ham, one would never think you was an English- 
 man to hear you running down old England 
 like that." From the grocer s in Lamb s Conduit 
 Street he despatched the luckless comedy to the 
 Diadem, a note of congratulation to Parlett, and 
 several cheerful falsehoods to his wife. 
 
 The days are no more when authors fore- 
 gathered in taverns over a pint of stout and a 
 steak, and Lingham s circle of acquaintances was 
 not wide. It was no easy matter for him to find 
 regular employment. He was too old a hand 
 to dream that he could pay his way by means 
 
 233 
 
when Love Flies 
 
 of unsolicited short stories, even though he were 
 to scatter them broadcast, and to obtain a com- 
 mission for a series was almost hopeless. Only 
 once had he had an engagement of that kind — 
 on a paper called Bon- Ton — and then the terms 
 had been half a guinea for three thousand words. 
 When Meenie had been gone a week he changed 
 his last sovereign, and seemed as far as ever from 
 a salary. 
 
 Monday brought him another tender little letter, 
 enclosing a postal order. She had fulfilled her 
 intention, and a lump rose to his throat. He 
 could not take her money ; it was impossible that 
 he could let her work and stint herself too. He 
 could not take her money, but he saw how 
 delighted she was to send it, how timid of 
 accentuating his discomfiture, and it was difficult 
 to frame a refusal that would not wound her. 
 
 After he had evolved the most specious in his 
 power — an answer containing many endearments, 
 but also the remittance which it had been her 
 joy to make — he determined before he posted 
 it to adventure Bon- Ton this morning. Probably 
 in that quarter, and at a starvation wage, he 
 could arrange a series. If he did, he would tear 
 the answer up, and write instead that he had 
 found something to do, and would have accepted 
 her aid gladly had it been essential. 
 
 234 
 
Out o' the Window 
 
 Bon- To7i was not a paper of so high a standing 
 as the title impHed. It was a minor periodical 
 owned and edited by a gentleman whose tastes 
 inclined to journalism, and whose livelihood was 
 gained by pawnbroking. Mr. Hunt, despite the 
 incongruity of his pursuits, was a very agreeable 
 man of charming address, and his contributors — 
 in Lingham s time at least — had never betrayed 
 their knowledge that the name of Hunt'' under 
 the three gilt balls a little lower down the street 
 had any connection with the courteous chief who 
 examined their copy in the office of Bon-Ton, 
 With a delicacy born of respect, they always 
 pawned their watches somewhere else. 
 
 When Lingham was admitted to the editorial 
 den, Mr. Hunt was much pleased to see him. 
 
 I have often wondered whether ' Ralph Ling- 
 ham,' the novelist, and the ' Ralph Lingham ' 
 who used to do our feuilletons, were one and the 
 same," he said. ''Are you the author of Angela 
 Brown — Publisher, and the rest of them } " 
 
 I am that celebrity," said Lingham. 
 
 I congratulate you very heartily ! You have 
 gone far since those days." 
 
 You're very kind. ..." One always returns 
 to one's first love.' " 
 
 Do you mean that you are open to do some- 
 thing for us again ? " 
 
 235 
 
when Love Flies 
 
 ''Why not?'' said Lingham. ''It was with 
 that idea I came to see you/' 
 
 But Mr. Hunt, it transpired, was in no need of 
 short tales. He was now offering in each number 
 a prize for the best submitted, and found that the 
 amateurs wrote them quite well enough for him, 
 besides buying the paper regularly to learn the 
 result of the competition. 
 
 " And then the winner spends two-thirds of the 
 prize money on copies to send to his friends,'' he 
 explained blandly. " To get a professional man to 
 buy copies one must give him a four-column inter- 
 view and a portrait ! But I should have liked your 
 work all the same. What is it you want — just an 
 appointment, or must the work be fiction ? " 
 
 "I'm not particular. Is there a vacancy on the 
 staff?" 
 
 "Would you care to do the dramatic criticism ? " 
 asked Mr. Hunt. 
 
 " What are you paying for it ? " 
 
 The proprietor confessed that the rate was not 
 high. " But it wouldn't take up much of your 
 time," he pointed out. "And — I don't know if 
 you're fond of the theatre — you would be able to 
 see every piece before it had been out a week, 
 and one or two of the houses send us a ticket for 
 the first night. Thirty shillings ? " 
 
 236 
 
Out o' the Window 
 
 rm afraid I couldn't, really!" said Lingham, 
 masking alacrity. 
 
 I am sorry I can't do better," said Mr. Hunt ; 
 ''it is the most the paper will stand." 
 
 The novelist pulled his moustache. ''It's very 
 little," he murmured. 
 
 '^ Think it over," said Mr. Hunt. 
 
 Lingham shrugged his shoulders. ^' All right," 
 he said, "Til take it!" They setded the details 
 before he left, and Mr. Hunt, who went out at the 
 same time, inquired "if it was too early for him." 
 
 The berth and the whisky sent him home in 
 high feather, and Meenie received a gay epistle 
 describing the brilliance of his prospects. " I am 
 to loll in stalls," he wrote, " and to be paid for it ! 
 My only trouble is the thought of the laundry 
 bills for so many dress shirts. Take back the 
 fifteen shillings that thou gavest, and revel in 
 luxury! You're a darling." 
 
 When the unacted playwright had been a 
 dramatic critic for about a month, a long tele- 
 gram from her arrived. She telegraphed that a 
 woman was leaving the company, and asked him 
 to implore Parlett to let her have the part. By 
 her prolixity at the cost of a halfpenny a word, 
 he saw that she was very much in earnest, and 
 he went to Belsize Avenue as soon as her appeal 
 
 237 
 
when Love Flies 
 
 was digested. He showed his friend her message, 
 and after Parlett had said several times that no 
 doubt the manager had someone else in his eye, 
 he rang him up on the telephone to ascertain. 
 
 ' Flora ' is a very important part/' he repeated 
 irritably while they waited for the bell to sound. 
 
 Flora' sings 'Consequential Carrie.' 'Small' 
 part, your wife calls it ? She talks like a prima 
 donna! Its not a small part. If she had had 
 more experience it would be another thing, but — 
 Well, ril do what I can! But / don't make the 
 engagements ; I can only suggest her for it." 
 
 When communication with the manager was 
 established at last, Lingham sat attentive on the 
 table. Is that you ? " cried Parlett. '' Eh ? . . . 
 Yes — I'm talking to you. . . . Yes ! I say, my 
 boy, how about ' Flora ' ? Is it cast for Newcastle ? 
 . . . What ? . . . Oh ! " 
 
 Is it cast ? " exclaimed Lingham under his 
 breath. 
 
 No. Well, what do you want me to say ? " 
 '' Say she's just the woman for it." 
 
 It's a great responsibility," growled Parlett ; 
 ' Consequential Carrie ' she sings ! " He bent 
 to the tube again : ''I say, you've got just the 
 woman in the company ! Meenie Weston I she's 
 in the chorus. . . . Eh ? . . . Oh, do you think 
 
 238 
 
Out o' the Window 
 
 so?'' He turned to Lingham. He says shes 
 too petite — she wouldn't look it." 
 
 ''Say she's very clever," said Lingham hurriedly, 
 picturing her eagerness. 
 
 ''This is shameful!" muttered Parlett. . . . "She's 
 damn clever, my boy. Trust to ' Poppa ' — I know 
 what I'm talking about. . . . What? . . . Oh, 
 
 I should think — er " He glanced over his 
 
 shoulder. "What will your wife take?" 
 
 " Heaven knows ! " said Lingham. " What's 
 it worth ? " 
 
 "This woman gets seven pounds a week. Say 
 four pounds ten ? " 
 
 " Call it five ! " said Lingham. 
 
 " Five pounds," continued Parlett through the 
 telephone. " She'll be cheap at the money ! . . . 
 What ? . . . Well, you wouldn't get anyone else 
 for that ! . . . What ? . . . Yes, she's a ' find ' ! . . . 
 Right you are ! What was the house last night ? " 
 He chuckled. "Good-bye." 
 
 And this was how Meenie obtained her first 
 part. Her emotions were unspeakable ; the edge 
 of joy was so keen that it hurt. But there were 
 trials to come too. Her rehearsals began the 
 next morning and continued for a fortnight. A 
 company always resent having to attend re- 
 hearsals for the benefit of a new member — although 
 
 239 
 
when Love Flies 
 
 they recognise that their attendance is necessary 
 — and when the new member is a promoted chorus 
 girl they resent it still more. A Ring o Roses 
 company, with a few exceptions, were openly 
 disdainful. They walked through " their busi- 
 ness " with raised eyebrows, and some of the 
 chorus ladies, who had to disappoint desirable 
 acquaintances in order to be provoked by an ex- 
 companion s sudden importance, tittered at her 
 acting as loudly as they dared. 
 
 For she had to act — she solely. It was a 
 horrible ordeal to caper about the stage, and 
 simulate excitement and rapture among a listless 
 crowd who replied in murmurs, and kept their 
 hands in their muffs. Her limbs seemed weighted, 
 and though she hated the girls who tittered, she 
 felt that she was looking ridiculous. 
 
 The stage-manager was considerate enough, 
 but the low comedian — an ill-conditioned brute 
 who had been expelled from a lodging-house in 
 Manchester for half-killing his dog — cowed her 
 more than all the others combined. He was not 
 satisfied to be scornful ; he was perpetually ex- 
 asperated. One of her scenes was played with 
 him, and for every line she uttered he had an im- 
 patient rebuke. She became stupid with timidity. 
 At last, when he muttered that he hadn't been in 
 
 240 
 
Out o' the Window 
 
 the profession twenty years to have his laughs 
 
 corpsed by a b chorus girl," the stage - 
 
 manager came to her rescue. After that the 
 comedian did not interfere with her, but she knew 
 she had an enemy for the rest of the tour, and 
 that he would try to confuse her before the 
 audience by every means in his power. 
 
 And constantly now she had the same night- 
 mare. She dreamt that she was standing in the 
 wings of a theatre, waiting to go ''on for a part 
 that she had not read. She was faint with horror. 
 Nearer and nearer came the cue ; in another 
 instant she must stand speechless on the stage. 
 The agony always woke her before the cue fell ; 
 but that nightmare recurred to her at intervals as 
 long as she lived. 
 
 Her debut was to be made in Newcastle, and 
 in the Newcastle playbills on the momentous 
 Monday she beheld her name printed in a cast 
 for the first time. It looked larger to her than 
 anybody's else — it leapt out of the column to her 
 in every window. How insignificant now ap- 
 peared the string of names at the foot : Brides- 
 maids, Courtiers, Peasants — Misses Neilson, 
 Erroll, Vandeleur, Norise," etc. ! The type 
 seemed to have shrunk since her advancement. 
 
 She begged one of the bills from the advance- 
 
 Q 241 
 
When Love Flies 
 
 agent to send to Ralph. At seven o'clock she 
 went to the theatre, quivering. She thanked God 
 that she was to dress with two of the ' principals ' 
 to-night ; under the envious comments of the 
 chorus she might have broken down. She found 
 immediately that she was not to escape comment 
 as it was. On the staircase there was an alterca- 
 tion ; one of the two women was complaining 
 that she was insulted by the arrangement ; and 
 she didn't lower her voice as Meenie approached. 
 
 Putting a chorus girl to dress with me ! Yes, 
 she is ! Of course she is ! I do object ; my 
 Position in the Company '' 
 
 Miss W eston is engaged for ' Flora,' " said the 
 stage-manager. You have always dressed with 
 ^ Flora.'" 
 
 Yes, when you had an artist for the part. A 
 chorus girl ? What next ? I never heard of such 
 
 a thing in my life. To-morrow night " 
 
 Meenie hurried by. The woman, pledged to 
 silence, presently ignored her with a rudeness 
 that was meant for dignity. The other dropped 
 a few kindly remarks. While the girl made-up, 
 the grease-paint shook in her hand, and the crash- 
 ing of the cymbals and the bangs of the drum 
 struck terror to her heart. Until the second Act 
 ^ Flora ' did not appear. 
 
 242 
 
Out o' the Window 
 
 ''Beginners, second Act!'' the call-boy yelled, 
 and she crept to the wings, suffocating with 
 dread. The stage - manager glanced at her 
 anxiously. The incident on the stairs had been 
 enough to unhinge a more experienced actress. 
 Nervous, my dear he said. 
 
 She tried to smile. 
 
 He saw, and said no more. 
 Clear, please ! " 
 
 The perspiring scene-shifters hurried from the 
 stage. The chorus drew a breath, and poised 
 themselves for airy tripping. She had three 
 minutes left. 
 
 She moved to the entrance from which she 
 was to run on. The orchestra burst forth afresh, 
 and she could see the curtain rise. While she 
 waited for her cue, one thought whirled in her : 
 the thought of all she had to justify — her long 
 belief in herself, Ralph s request to Parlett, 
 Parlett s asseveration. Its my chance," she 
 kept thinking, ''what I have hoped for, what 
 I have felt I could do. Oh, let me do it — don't 
 let me fail ! My chance is here ! this is my 
 chance ! '' 
 
 The cue came, and the stage-manager touched 
 her arm : 
 
 " Now ! my dear/* he said. 
 
 243 
 
CHAPTER XX 
 
 BECAUSE the Newcastle Daily Chronicle 
 gave her the first praise that she saw she 
 was thankful to it for Hfe. All the criticisms that 
 she received were good ; the correspondents of 
 the Era and the Stage made her laugh with 
 delight when she read their notices, but the 
 praise of the Newcastle Daily Chronicle at the 
 breakfast -table next morning brought tears to 
 her eyes. 
 
 She had known when she left the theatre that 
 her manager was pleased with her, but it wasn't 
 till she received an answer to her glad telegram 
 to Guilford Street that she knew the extent of 
 his approval : Parlett hears you are great." 
 
 Theatrical folk have their own terminology. 
 She was not great,'' nor was the term used 
 to signify what the rest of the world means by 
 greatness," but she was dainty and naive; and 
 she became a favourite with the audience in 
 every town. Her voice and her face — behind 
 the footlights her face was beautiful — appealed 
 to everyone. Then in the ''Flora" costume, 
 
 244 
 
when Love Flies Out o' the Window 
 
 with her hair down, she looked surprisingly 
 young, and old ladies in the pit would say, Oh, 
 that dear little girl ! I do wish that dear little 
 girl would come on again ! " A check-taker was 
 an acquaintance of the baggage-mans, and the 
 baggage-man told the wardrobe-mistress, and 
 the wardrobe-mistress mentioned it to the acting- 
 manager, and eventually it got to headquarters. 
 And there was no longer a question whether 
 other ''principals'' would share dressing-rooms 
 with her, though many disparaged her much 
 more than if she had been a failure. On the 
 boards personality is nine-tenths of the battle, 
 but they who have all the tricks of experience 
 at their finger-ends feel bitter when a novice 
 outstrips them by virtue of mere charm. 
 
 In February it was whispered that A Ring 
 0 Roses was to be taken to London. No sooner 
 did the rumour reach Meenie than she wrote to 
 Lingham inquiring excitedly whether she would 
 be retained for the West End production if the 
 news proved true, but he was unable to give her 
 a definite reply. 
 
 In March it was settled that the opera was to 
 be put on at the Piccadilly during the following- 
 month. Numerous changes were made in the 
 company before a London verdict was challenged. 
 
 245 
 
When Love Flies 
 
 The heroine of the tour was replaced by a singer 
 at forty pounds a week, and a popular comedian 
 supplanted the one who kicked his dog. How- 
 ever, the management decided that to engage 
 a Flora'' with a reputation, when they had a 
 good one for five pounds, would be an un- 
 warranted expense, and among the few who 
 kept their parts were Meenie and the young 
 woman who had spoken to her kindly on the 
 occasion of her debut. 
 
 This woman was her one friend. Miss 
 Stewart/' as she was called, had also a husband 
 in town. He had an accountants berth in the 
 city, and she confided to Meenie that she was 
 only remaining on the stage till they could pay 
 some money that they owed. As soon as they 
 had saved it, she was going to stop at home in 
 their ''dear little flat." She loved to talk about 
 it, and Meenie was to go to see her there. 
 
 The girl had had the advantage of watching 
 her predecessor for a month before she com- 
 menced rehearsals ; now she had the advantage 
 of having played the role night after night for 
 three months before she faced the London Press. 
 Circumstances had been greatly in her favour, 
 and she reached St. Pancras buoyantly. Ling- 
 ham was on the platform. She had written to 
 
 246 
 
Out o' the Window 
 
 him to tell Mrs. Watkins that they would like 
 to have the drawing-room floor, for with six 
 pounds ten a week between them top bedrooms 
 were out of the question ; and when they went 
 in, the table was laid for dinner, and a bundle 
 of violets that he had bought to welcome her 
 bloomed in a bowl. 
 
 The wide drawing-room looked luxurious to 
 him with its saddle-bag suite — from which the 
 first gloss had worn — the draped mantelshelf, and 
 the piano. After the feeble lamp upstairs, the 
 gasalier was a blaze of splendour. At dinner 
 she did most of the talking ; there were so many 
 things to tell him that had always evaded her 
 pen, but there were very few for him to impart. 
 When they rose she opened her trunk, and re- 
 appeared with a meerschaum pipe, and a silver 
 match-box, and a paper-knife with an angel's 
 head on the handle — little presents that she had 
 collected for him on her travels. She was so 
 pleased to return that she chattered and laughed 
 in a breath ; and he was happy to have her back 
 with him. But he could not produce any presents 
 because he had had no money to spare, and 
 as he thanked her, the violets looked meagre in 
 his eyes. 
 
 They no longer dwelt on the comedy as his 
 247 
 
when Love Flies 
 
 passport to public favour. It had been rejected 
 in too many quarters by now, and he seemed to 
 her to build but little on a book he had begun, 
 though this was to be no potboiler, but a piece 
 of work which would occupy a year. Hitherto 
 there had always been something they looked 
 forward to together — some Jack-o'-lantern that 
 was to be their sun — and she missed in him the 
 cheerful allusions beginning When." She felt, 
 as the glow of the reunion faded, that he was 
 a depressed man trying to be lively. 
 
 The next time that Lingham saw Parlett he 
 received boisterous congratulations on his wife's 
 talent. The dramatist was in his dithyrambic 
 key. You re a damned lucky chap to be 
 married to such a clever little woman," he ex- 
 claimed ; " she'll be getting big terms before 
 she has done. Wait till you see her on the first 
 night ! " Lingham said he was glad that the 
 other was satisfied. 
 
 The opera was to be produced at the Piccadilly 
 on a Wednesday evening, and his latest copy for 
 Bon- Ton had always to be handed in by Wednes- 
 day afternoon. Neither he nor Meenie was will- 
 ing for the paper to come out that week without 
 a notice of A Ring d Roses, and he couldn't go 
 to the dress rehearsal ; so she told him the story, 
 
 248 
 
Out o' the Window 
 
 and he wrote his criticism of the production on 
 Wednesday morning. 
 
 With his criticism of his wife's performance he 
 took great pains. It is not so easy to write a 
 laudatory notice as a supercilious one. With the 
 best intentions in the world, he got on slowly. 
 
 *''A pronounced success was made by Miss 
 Meenie Weston, a young lady whose name is new 
 to me,' " he read. ''How is that for a start ? " 
 
 She leant over his shoulder. 
 
 ''Very good," she said. 
 
 " Do you think so ? I don't like it much. . . . 
 No, I shan't say that ; it's elementary. . . . ' But 
 the surprise of the evening was caused by an 
 artist whose name in the programme was un- 
 familiar.' That's bad too. Well, never mind ; 
 give me an ' impression.' What do you do first ? " 
 
 " I run on, you know ; I call the chorus round 
 me to tell them the news." 
 
 " What news ? " 
 
 "Why, the news of the heroine's elopement, 
 Silly. Its a speech — I've some nice lines. I'm 
 laughing." 
 
 " Oh, I understand. Where are we . . . 
 'Whose name in the programme was unfamiliar.' 
 You write, and I'll dictate — I think better when 
 I'm walking about. Are you ready ? " 
 
 249 
 
when Love Flies 
 
 She nibbled the penholder, and nodded. 
 * Suddenly a young girl had run on to the stage 
 brimming with laughter. She clapped her hands, 
 and beckoned the others close to hear her news.' " 
 I don't clap my hands," she said. 
 
 ''Well, you ought to! I can't spoil my de- 
 scription because you don't do it. Let that pass. 
 . . . ' The others close to hear her news.' Er — 
 * She was fortunate in having some of the 
 brightest lines in the book " to speak — and 
 Mr. Parlett's book " is as happy as his lyrics — 
 but it was not the tale she had to tell that startled 
 us ; it was the girl. She seemed to be bubbling 
 with such irrepressible glee, her merriment was 
 so infectious, that a ripple of expectant laughter 
 stirred the audience too. I think we all leant 
 forward in our seats a little. We were listening 
 to a madcap escaped from school, or to an un- 
 known actress who was mistress of her art.'" 
 Oh, Ralph ! " she said, putting down her pen ; 
 that's sweet!'' She sighed. ''It's too much; 
 not ' mistress ' of her art, dear." 
 
 He did not think it was an art at all, but it 
 would have sounded like jealousy to say so now. 
 
 " I want to do the most I can for you," he said 
 drearily. " But just as you like — we'll alter that, 
 then. Tell me what to say about your voice." 
 
 250 
 
Out o' the Window 
 
 She had made purchases for the part the pre- 
 vious afternoon at a shop that catered specially for 
 ladies of her profession, and presently the box 
 was delivered. She flew to it, and wrestled with 
 the string ; she had never possessed such expen- 
 sive lingerie before. Lingham cut the knot for 
 her, and she drew out some stockings, smiling. 
 There were three pairs, of different tints, to tone 
 with the costumes that she wore ; and there were 
 voluminous garments which combined many 
 things in one. He touched these curiously. 
 
 ''They're beautifully made," she murmured, 
 lowering her eyes. And indeed they were ; but 
 he realised that the world was to see them on her, 
 and he turned nearly as white as the lace. 
 
 He took his notice to the office after luncheon 
 — sherry and some sandwiches ; their dinner-hour 
 was to be five, to suit Meenie. He was conscious 
 that Mrs. Watkins treated him with increased 
 respect since he had acquired the drawing-room 
 floor, and she understood that his wife was one 
 of the principal ladies at the Piccadilly. 
 
 His ticket was for the dress-circle, and when 
 the curtain rose he was glad that — the notice 
 being written — he could let his thoughts wander 
 from the entertainment without restraint. He 
 was obsessed by the knowledge that Meenie 
 
 251 
 
when Love Flies 
 
 moved somewhere behind the glittering mysteries 
 across the footlights — that presently Meenie 
 would be among the fantastic throng that pirou- 
 etted on the stage. Now that he was in the 
 theatre the circumstances bewildered him a little ; 
 there was a breath of unreality in the situation 
 until he sat looking at her. 
 
 Avid of every lesson she could glean, she had 
 made him promise to tell her exactly what he 
 felt ; and the first thing he felt as she ran to the 
 public s stare was a sick shame. But he would 
 not tell her that. There was nothing immodest 
 in her dress, viewing it as a burlesque costume ; 
 there was nothing indelicate in her part, regarding 
 it as the part of anybody else. But she was his 
 wife ! And the skirt to her knees, and her 
 coquetries to the crowd, and the condescension 
 of the painted tenor, struck him hard. 
 
 She called the comic pastrycook ''darling," and 
 they were supposed to marry. He put his arm 
 round her waist, and kissed her. The kiss was 
 not real, but the clasp was. Her husband told 
 himself that so a man might have clasped her in 
 a ballroom, but his heart was hot. A vulgar, 
 brainless mime, the pastrycook" ! But he could 
 earn fifteen hundred a year, and support the 
 woman he had married, if he had the wish. 
 
 252 
 
Out o' the Window 
 
 Only he, the lauded Hterary man, was impotent 
 to do that ! Of what good was such talent as 
 his ? It was an affliction, for it incapacitated him 
 for any useful work. Of what value was the 
 recognition of a cultured Press? The ''pastry- 
 cook " could snap his fingers at it. 
 
 During the second entr'acte he went to the 
 buffet. He had made a few acquaintances among 
 the dramatic critics by now, and if it had been 
 possible, he would have begged one or two of 
 them to write of Meenie as kindly as they could. 
 It was beyond him ; he could not nerve himself 
 to confess that he was letting his wife do this 
 thing. What would they say? ''Certainly, my 
 dear fellow ! " And behind his back : " Must be 
 a bit of a cad, you know.'' Yes, he was a cad — 
 he said it ; he felt that he was — or seemed — a 
 cad ; but he was helpless. In what calling could 
 he earn more than he was being paid ? Could 
 he ask her to relinquish her salary, and her 
 prospects, to pig with him on his thirty shillings 
 a week ? He shrank to a corner, and listened 
 to the mingled comments of strangers who came 
 up for whisky-and-soda and cigarettes — 
 
 ''Not half bad! I like the music. It's very 
 catchy." . . . 
 
 " Yes, by Jove ! isn't she ? " 
 
 253 
 
When Love Flies 
 
 Which do you mean ? " 
 
 The girl who plays — you know ! What s her 
 name ? 
 
 ^^Meenie Weston." . . . 
 Oh, very poor ! There hasn't been a tune 
 yet Vanderhoff s a fraud." 
 
 " Take care ! That s his brother-in-law behind 
 you." 
 
 I say! Meenie Weston is agreeable to con- 
 template, eh ? Where does she come from ? Til 
 have a liqueur." 
 
 " Did you notice her hands ? She's got no 
 rings on." 
 
 *^One. Married!" 
 Oh, that doesn t count ! " 
 
 At the end of the performance he went up the 
 side street, and waited for her at the stage-door. 
 There were several young men in evening dress 
 meeting ladies at the stage-door ; they appeared 
 to find it more amusing than he. He realised 
 that much depended on the relationship. She 
 came out — a little, tremulous girl, eager for his 
 praise — and they rattled homeward in a hansom. 
 He stared before him blankly. 
 
 ^^Well?" she faltered. 
 
 What could he say ? 
 
 ^^Was I— all right?" 
 
 254 
 
Out o' the Window 
 
 You were very good, dear/' he said, very 
 good indeed." His tone was lifeless. 
 
 The warmth of success left her. All the elation, 
 the excitement of the crisis, died in her veins. 
 She had wanted him to hold her close, and say 
 she had astonished him. During the months on 
 tour she had looked forward to his saying that. 
 He had spoken too strongly last year for her to 
 be puzzled, but she was hurt. Of necessity he 
 had concurred at last, and she was doing her 
 best. And she had spared him the recital of 
 many incidents that he would have been pained 
 to hear. It had not been roses all the way'' 
 for her, though she had hidden the scratches. 
 She would have worked her fingers to the bone 
 for him ; but she wanted them kissed. 
 
 The hansom stopped, and they mounted the 
 dark stairs silently. While he wrote his notice 
 she had pictured a joyous supper to-night, and 
 she had given the landlady money to get a bottle 
 of champagne. When he turned up the gas, 
 Lingham saw it. It was a revelation. With a 
 flood of pity for them both, he understood, and 
 the disappointment he had inflicted tightened his 
 own throat. 
 
 What, champagne ? " he said, trying to throw 
 some gaiety into his voice. 
 
 255 
 
when Love Flies 
 
 Her reply was indistinct, and she moved from 
 him, gulping. She found the sight of the table 
 pathetic, and his exclamation made it worse. 
 
 Meenie ! What s the matter ? " 
 
 My head aches,'' she murmured, taking off 
 her hat. I don't think I want any supper ; I 
 am tired.'' 
 
 **No supper.'^ A banquet, and you aren't going 
 to eat ? Nonsense ! Remember the occasion ! 
 Come and sit down." 
 
 She drooped by the mantelshelf, her back to- 
 wards him. He went over to her slowly, and 
 stroked her hair. 
 
 '*Oh ! " she cried, falling to his shoulder, why 
 should it be like this, Ralph ?" 
 
 He held her remorsefully ; he could find no 
 words. 
 
 I — I didn't say enough," he stammered at 
 last. I thought you knew. You — everybody 
 thought you were very clever." 
 
 ''No, no, it isn't that! It's the way you look 
 at it. I see ! . . . What will it mean — what is 
 our life going to be — if you feel like this about 
 it always ? " 
 
 He noted with a pang that she no longer said, 
 It is only for a little while." She had had 
 success since she urged that — and he had had 
 more failures. 
 
 256 
 
Out o' the Window 
 
 ''Til grow sensible," he answered, labouredly 
 light ; ''I'll be good ! Be patient with me ; it s a 
 little difficult for a man to be kept by his wife, 
 and to like it." 
 
 '''Kept!'" Her eyes dilated. "Oh, you 
 make it horrible ! " 
 
 "Well, my dear, it is 'kept.' I — God knows 
 you are an angel — I appreciate ; you do it all as 
 sweetly as a woman could. I notice a good 
 many things I don't mention ; you do your best 
 to make me forget where my thirty shillings 
 leave off and your five pounds begin, but facts 
 are facts. Without you I should be back in my 
 attic, and I should have dinner in Wardour Street 
 
 for a bob. With you ! You can't expect me 
 
 to be proud of the position." 
 
 "Is it impossible," she said thickly, "for you 
 to think of us as one ? / do. / didn't feel 
 humiliated when you took me out of the pension, 
 and fed and clothed me. If you say it's wicked 
 that, with work like mine, I should earn more 
 than you can with your books, I am with you 
 heart and soul ; but your triumphs will come — 
 we know they will come — can't you be glad with 
 me about my little penny triumphs in the mean- 
 while } " 
 
 They had married ; and behind the marriage 
 R 257 
 
When Love Flies Out o' the Window 
 
 the wife did not look. With tenderness, with 
 sympathy, with discernment she looked at all 
 that was needful — at the present. She reflected 
 that it was compulsory for her to work ; she re- 
 flected that even were she to take a situation in a 
 shop, the fruit of her work would still be bitter in 
 his mouth ; she reflected that he was preparing 
 unhappiness for them both by complaining of the 
 inevitable. But — being his wife — she did not 
 reflect that he needn't have married her at all ; 
 and this was the thought that underlay the man s 
 depression now. He might have kept single, 
 and retained his self-respect. He felt that in 
 marrying he had been unfair to her and to him- 
 self 
 
 But he would not harp on the thought. He 
 drew her to the table, and simulating cheerfulness, 
 uncorked her wine. 
 
 258 
 
CHAPTER XXI 
 
 HE opera ran merrily in town, and when- 
 
 jL ever his duties as a dramatic critic left him 
 free Lingham brought his wife home. At a 
 quarter to eleven he dropped his pen — snapping 
 a thread of thought — and hurried to the Piccadilly 
 to meet her as she came out. He would have it 
 so, though she assured him that it was needless, 
 that she was used to coming out of a stage-door, 
 and taking care of herself. She did not tell him 
 that the insult from which he was so eager to 
 protect her often awaited her inside the door, and 
 he heard nothing of notes that she destroyed half- 
 read in her dressing-room. 
 
 Neither had referred again to his discontent. 
 As thoroughly as it could be, the subject had 
 been threshed out between them, and after the 
 night of confessions it was tabooed. Their 
 conversation had placed them in each others 
 arms, and she tried to believe that they remained 
 there. She tried very hard. 
 
 The man, on his side, had for a few days 
 striven to maintain a complacent front, and with 
 
when Love Flies 
 
 intention he did not drop it ; he did not put 
 it from him as a mask too irksome to be worn ; 
 he let it slip unconsciously. Nor was he con- 
 scious at the beginning of the irritability of his 
 tone that so often wounded her. In his resentful 
 reveries he was at infinite pains to discriminate 
 between her and circumstances, but he did not 
 manifest discrimination by his behaviour. Those 
 who tell a man he can keep back an insistent 
 thought are as fatuous as they who said, Keep 
 back the tide " ; the thought that Lingham had 
 vowed to restrain flowed in upon him every day. 
 Their marriage had been a mistake for both. 
 Her it had not enriched, and him it had left poor 
 indeed. Slurring the fact that she owed her 
 advancement to his introduction, he said that 
 she would have done just as well without him. 
 He said that the girl he had rescued from a 
 den in Paris would have succeeded anyhow — 
 that by their precipitous marriage she had gained 
 nothing except a husband who lived on her 
 earnings. As for himself — he was quite alive to 
 the pathos of the situation, but he knew she 
 wasn't so dear to him when she was putting 
 forth her best endeavours as when she had been 
 helplessly affectionate ; poverty had entered, and 
 its presence chilled him no less because his wife 
 
 260 
 
Out o' the Window 
 
 could avert its grip. As for himself, he could not 
 pretend that her companionship compensated for 
 his humiliation. The secret thought acted upon 
 him like a secret vice, and irritable tones 
 developed into hasty words, and from hasty 
 words sprang quick remonstrances. 
 
 Perhaps, although she did not know it, she 
 was outwardly a shade less tolerant than she had 
 been. She would have abhorred herself to think 
 that the turn of the wheel had dizzied her, but 
 it was natural that she should stand higher in 
 her self-esteem than formerly ; she was less dis- 
 posed to bow her neck to ill-temper and rebukes. 
 
 And as the months went by, he was constantly 
 ill-tempered. He was sorry he had married her 
 before he could afford it. He gave her credit 
 for all the virtues ; he owned that her disposition 
 was sweeter, that her character was nobler than 
 his own ; but he was sorry he had married, and 
 few men can conceal such regret with the amiable 
 hypocrisy of a woman. 
 
 One Saturday in July, before she left for the 
 theatre, she stood for a moment on the balcony. 
 Inside, Lingham had just sat down to his novel. 
 The day had been despairingly hot, and the sight 
 of the arid length of Guilford Street filled her 
 with a sudden craving for the sea. It was eight 
 
 261 
 
When Love Flies 
 
 o'clock ; the dinner-bells of the boarding-houses 
 had jangled an hour ago, and now at the windows, 
 and on the doorsteps, the dull-faced clerks fanned 
 themselves in the gathering quietude of twilight. 
 She pictured the sea as it would look when the 
 moon rose. The longing to behold it thrilled 
 her, and she went back to the room impulsively. 
 Ralph, it's Saturday ! " she exclaimed ; 
 couldn't we go away somewhere to-night after 
 the show, and spend to-morrow at the seaside ? " 
 
 A physical pain shot through his head at the 
 interruption ; every nerve in the man jumped. 
 The bridge his thoughts had been spinning fell 
 to air ; on a sudden his mind was as blank as the 
 paper. He put his pen down with an elaborate 
 gesture of renunciation, and leant back in the 
 chair. 
 
 '*Go away somewhere?" he echoed. By his 
 tone she might have suggested a trip round the 
 world. ''What do you mean, 'Go away some- 
 where ' ? " 
 
 ''It's so hot," she murmured. " There's a late 
 train to Brighton. I could send a wire to an 
 hotel before I went into the theatre, and we 
 needn't come back till Monday afternoon. It 
 wouldn't cost very much, and it would do us 
 good." 
 
 262 
 
Out o' the Window 
 
 Brighton ? In July? Yes, it would do us a 
 lot of good ! Have you any idea what Brighton 
 is like in July? You talk like a child ; you don't 
 consider. It s hotter there than here/' 
 
 She bit her lip ; ''Well, think of another place, 
 then — I don't mind where we go." 
 
 What do you want to go anywhere for ? We 
 haven't an A.B.C, — I don't think we could get 
 a train anywhere else so late. Besides, I've got 
 my work to do. Don't you know how slowly 
 I'm getting on ? I haven't the time to go out of 
 town." 
 
 ^'Oh, very well," she said sharply. It would 
 make a great difference if you spared a day and 
 a half!" 
 
 He wanted to swear, so he clenched his hands 
 and beat them on the table. 
 
 ''It isn't a day and a half!" he cried; "you 
 know just as well as I do that if I take a day off 
 at the wrong time it costs me a week. By 
 Heaven, it's an extraordinary thing that a woman 
 never learns ! . . . All right, all right ! We'll 
 go ! Where do you want to go — Brighton ? All 
 right, pack your bag ; I'll pack mine presently." 
 
 " Oh, no," she said, "we'll stay at home, thank 
 you. 
 
 " Don't be silly," said Lingham ; " you want to 
 
 263 
 
when Love Flies 
 
 go away, and its arranged. IVe told you Til 
 do it" 
 
 I don't want to go away. Don't say any 
 more about it.'' 
 
 Oh ! " — he brought his fist down on the 
 
 table with a crash — you're maddening! You 
 are ! You're maddening ! You burst in upon 
 me with some stupid whim ; you send all my 
 ideas out of my head ; and then when I tell you 
 — when I tell you — that I'll go, you don't want 
 to ! What does it matter to me whether we do, 
 or don't, now ? I suppose you think I can go on 
 with my work as if you hadn't spoken ? I'm not 
 a machine. / can't make a living by prancing 
 on the stage and speaking somebody else's words 
 — I've got to find my own. I don't know what 
 I was writing about, I don't know what I was 
 going to say, everything's gone. Whether I go 
 to Brighton, or whether I stop here, you've ruined 
 my evening. For Heaven's sake make up your 
 mind what you do want before you talk about it. 
 This sort of thine is killino-." 
 
 ''You're quite right," she said, with a gasp; 
 it is. Killing ! Every day — a dozen times a day, 
 if I took notice of it — you speak to me as if 
 I were your worst enemy. I can't bear it, Ralph. 
 I don't think you know — I don't think you can 
 
 264 
 
Out o' the Window 
 
 know — how you behave. You rage about trifles. 
 You blame me for everything — you seem to like 
 to blame me — it seems to be your one relief. 
 I can't say a word to you any more ; Tm afraid 
 to open my mouth.'' 
 
 Oh, you are very hardly used," said Lingham 
 bitterly. 
 
 There was a momentary pause. Outside, an 
 itinerant harpist swept the strings, and sent up to 
 them a love-song. 
 
 ''Whatever I do or say," she stammered, ''it 
 is wrong now. If I ask you how you are getting 
 on, it is wrong ; if I don't ask you how you are 
 getting on, it is wrong. God knows I try to do 
 right, but we don't agree any more — it seems 
 as if we can't! I've told you before that your 
 temper is spoiling our lives." 
 
 " Once or twice," he said. 
 
 " But not so often as I have felt it ! " 
 
 "I'm very sorry," he returned, a little shame- 
 faced, "but I really don't know what I can do ; 
 I'm afraid I'm rather old to improve." 
 
 "/'m not a machine either. If you could 
 remember it, we should be happier ; / have 
 nerves too, though I do make a living on the 
 stage by speaking somebody else's words." 
 
 " I wasn't referring to you," he muttered. 
 265 
 
when Love Flies 
 
 You were ! " she cried. You sneered at me. 
 I think sometimes you hate me since I've been 
 on the stage." 
 
 Oh, don't talk such rot ! You make a moun- 
 tain out of a mole-hill." 
 
 Yes, it is always a ' mole-hill ' after you have 
 done, I know. I am never to answer, I am 
 never to feel — the nerves, the anger, the re- 
 proaches, are all to be yours. And when you've 
 done, when you've stamped on me, and bruised 
 my heart, it's a * mole-hill.' It isn't fair, it isn't 
 possible. I'm a woman — you ought to have 
 married a child ! " 
 
 ''Or nobody," he said behind his teeth. 
 
 **'Or nobody!"' she repeated, ''that would 
 have been best." 
 
 She stared beyond him passionately. The 
 howl of the harpist filled the room with incon- 
 gruous sentiment. 
 
 Lingham frowned, and strode to and fro. 
 
 " These scenes are just as painful to me as to 
 you," he exclaimed. "You tell me I'm a brute : 
 I'm not a brute intentionally. I — Look here, 
 you'll be late ; go and put your things together 
 at once, will you? And I'll send a wire to the 
 hotel." 
 
 She shook her head. 
 
 266 
 
Out o' the Window 
 
 Why not ? 
 
 It would be no pleasure now." 
 
 Then sulk ! " he shouted ; you've said every- 
 thing you could think of, and now you want to 
 pose as a martyr. I wish I were dead and buried. 
 You used to have a good temper." 
 
 My temper is what you are making it/' she 
 
 said. 
 
 She hurried from him with a sob ; he glared 
 
 after her savagely. At the curb the harpist 
 
 roared — 
 
 " ' I need no moon, no sun, to guide me 
 While I gaze in your dear heyes.' " 
 
 " Oh, be damned ! '' said Lingham, and banged 
 the window down. 
 
 267 
 
CHAPTER XXII 
 
 HEN the wife exclaims more and more 
 
 VV frequently, *'We don't get on together 
 any longer ! " and the husband is girding at the 
 tie, only family considerations are likely to avert 
 a crisis. These two were without family con- 
 siderations. They had no child to serve as link ; 
 they had no relatives who would regard their 
 separation as a scandal. Lingham often reflected 
 that, to himself at least, an amicable separation 
 would come as an intense relief if he had the 
 courage to propose it. Yet he shrank from 
 proposing it. He hesitated because, though 
 their life was one of daily friction, the measure 
 would sound a violent remedy to suggest for a 
 comparatively small ill. He was deterred also, 
 and chiefly, by the very fact that had originated 
 the desire — the fact of her being on the stage. 
 She was in a calling beset by temptations, and 
 she had returned to it with his consent. It was 
 his duty to uphold her by every means in his 
 power. It was his duty to swallow his chagrin, 
 and to stand by her till the time came when his 
 
 268 
 
when Love Flies Out o' the Window 
 
 work would suffice to support them. And — sup- 
 posing the time did arrive — if she should be 
 loth then to relinquish the position he had been 
 compelled to let her seek, it would be his duty 
 to stand by her still. 
 
 That was his duty, his unpalatable, odious 
 duty : to bring her home from the theatre, to 
 share her money, to resign himself to the per- 
 ception that her throat and her ankles were 
 more valuable commodities than his brains — 
 to be ''the husband of Miss Meenie Weston." 
 But he was at once too strong and too weak. 
 Sophistry could adduce arguments on the other 
 side. When she went on tour she did return 
 to the stage. His embarrassments had not 
 driven her to it, a novice ; it had been her pro- 
 fession before she met him, and the episode of 
 a reckless marriage in no way accentuated the 
 drawbacks of the ''world'' to which she be- 
 longed. Her life would be the life she had led 
 when accident threw them together. Far better ! 
 For she had been out of her depth at that 
 moment, and his arm had saved her. And she 
 would be in receipt of a good salary, instead of 
 a poor one. Here he did allow himself to dwell 
 on the introduction that had been her "Open 
 Sesame," and he argued that she would have no 
 
 cause to complain of having married him. No 
 
 269 
 
when Love Flies 
 
 cause if he found the courage to be candid before 
 her tears had dulled her prettiness ; if he did not 
 prolong his blunder till it became their curse. 
 
 A Ring d Roses bloomed and faded, and a 
 few days after a notice on the call-board apprised 
 the company that the run would terminate in 
 a fortnights time, she was offered an engage- 
 ment at the Folly. 
 
 Her salary was to be eight pounds a week, 
 and if the production proved a success, she 
 thought that Lingham and she would be justified 
 in taking the flat that Miss Stewart" was 
 trying so hard to let now. The accountant had 
 died ; her dreams of home life when their debt 
 was paid had ended with his illness ; and sud- 
 denly she stood alone, and she couldn't afford the 
 rent. Meenie reflected that in their own place 
 Lingham would be able to write more peace- 
 fully — that their own servant would banish from 
 existence a hundred annoyances which tips to a 
 lodging-house drudge could only abate. Like 
 him, she looked ahead with misgivings. She 
 could no longer keep her eyes bent solely on the 
 present, and there were hours when to consider 
 their future made her tremble. But when she 
 married him he was a stranger idealised in the 
 limelight of circumstance ; to-day he was real, 
 
 human, a part of herself The maternal element 
 
 270 
 
Out the Window 
 
 in every woman's love for man was in this 
 woman intensified slightly by the fact that she 
 had no child to be mother to — greatly by the 
 fact of the man's helplessness. Though he had 
 grown tetchy and embittered, she was patient 
 more often than she was reproachful ; though the 
 thought of the future dismayed her, the suggestion 
 of separating would never have been hers. 
 
 But it was on the night she mentioned her 
 project to him that he wrenched the truth out. 
 She spoke of it after supper. The opera was in 
 its last week, and rehearsals of Japonica Jones 
 at the Folly had already begun. 
 
 ^'Meenie," he said, ''I think you'd be mxuch 
 happier without me. We — we can't blink the 
 matter — we don't agree ; you are always saying 
 so, and it's true. What's the good of going on 
 with it } " 
 
 Her lips moved, but no sound came, and he 
 wasn't looking at her. 
 
 It's no fault of yours," he added nervously ; 
 *^ the circumstances are wrong. I can't resign 
 myself to being kept by you — I never shall ! 
 That's the root of all our differences. What's 
 the good of going on with it?" 
 
 You want us to live apart?" she faltered. 
 
 Wouldn't it be better for us both ? Let us 
 
 look at it sensibly ; we needn't make a tragedy 
 
 271 
 
when Love Flies 
 
 of it. I should like to think we could be friends. 
 . . . But I had no right to marry you. I had no 
 right to marry anybody, least of all a woman 
 on the stage. I can work till I die without 
 earning as much as you are paid already — and 
 with every engagement you get more." 
 
 Next time I mayn't get so much/' she put in 
 plaintively. 
 
 Tve failed," he exclaimed. I'm thirty-seven, 
 and I've failed; you are twenty-four, and you're 
 succeeding. What promise is there in the future ? 
 The wife who makes money, and the husband 
 a failure ! I'm not the man to bear it well — I've 
 tried. I'm too small-minded, too ungenerous, too 
 anything you like to call me — but I can't do it. 
 What shall we look forward to ? We should get 
 on worse together every year." 
 
 ''I suppose so," she said; we should get on 
 worse together every year." 
 
 He took a turn about the room. 
 
 " I can't give you back your liberty, unfortun- 
 ately — you will still be my wife ; but if we 
 separated, at least you would have peace. Better 
 to be tied to a man you don't live with than to 
 one who quarrels with you all the time." 
 Much better," she said. 
 Now you are . . . angry with me ? " 
 
 Oh, no ; all you say is quite right." 
 272 
 
Out o' the Window 
 
 She remembered the thoughts that had been in 
 her when she went back to her old Hfe ; she was 
 his comrade, his helpmate, joying to do her best. 
 This was what had come of it ! By his own 
 words their wretchedness was due to her devotion ; 
 that he should have said it made the knowledge 
 bitterer. A hot resentment swelled her heart. 
 
 *'A11 you say is quite right/' she repeated. We 
 made a mistake ; it is better we should own it." 
 
 If we can look at the thing in the right spirit," 
 said the man more cheerfully, *'we shall both be 
 grateful that we talked it out. Yes, we made 
 a mistake, but there's no reason why we should 
 part with — enmity. I should like to be of all the 
 use I can to you always. ... I don't know why 
 we should be strangers to each other because we 
 can't get on together under the same roof . . . 
 Of course, that must be as you wish, but anyhow, 
 I should like to feel that you would turn to me if 
 you wanted anything that I could do for you." 
 
 She was silent. He filled a pipe, and drew at 
 it in quick pulls. 
 
 *'That must be as you wish," he said again, 
 
 looking at her askance. 
 
 I don't understand what you mean," she said 
 
 stonily; *'you don't know 'why we should be 
 
 strangers ' ? " 
 
 I mean I don't know why we should never 
 s 273 
 
when Love Flies 
 
 speak to each other any more. I — We can't tear 
 the past out by the roots ; we married ; you may 
 need a man s help. Why shouldn't I see you — as 
 a friend — sometimes ? " 
 She took a long breath ; 
 
 ''We can't play at this, Ralph. I've tried to 
 be a good wife to you; I've suffered more than 
 you know lately; I've suffered enough to feel that 
 you've proposed the best course, though I don't 
 think I should ever have proposed it myself 
 I might. ... I can't say; perhaps I should have 
 in time. Once I wouldn't have believed I could 
 agree to it so readily. We are parting because 
 I have made you unhappy " 
 
 '' Not — not you," he stammered ; circum- 
 stances ! " 
 
 Oh, let us call things by their right names — 
 because I have made you unhappy. Then let's 
 part. You live your life, and I'll live mine. You 
 needn't worry about me ; I wasn't a child when 
 we met, and I've learnt a good deal since then. 
 You needn't worry about my not having my 
 'liberty' either; you mean, I suppose, that I can't 
 marry again } I shall never want to marry again, 
 Ralph." 
 
 " You have had enough of it," he said, " eh ? " 
 ''Yes, I have had enough of it." 
 
 She played with a book, and put it down — took 
 
 274 
 
Out o' the Window 
 
 up another, and opened it to hide her eyes. There 
 was a long silence. The last lodger to come in 
 put up the chain, and mounted the stairs, and 
 threw his boots out on the landing. 
 
 When had it better be ? " she asked abruptly. 
 Lingham started. 
 
 There's no hurry, I suppose ? You — It would 
 be best for us to leave at the same time, wouldn't 
 it ? If you are going to take the flat, I'll arrange 
 the matter for you." 
 
 There will be nothing for you to arrange," 
 she said. I shall live there with Miss Stewart ; 
 she will be very glad to have me. The sooner 
 the better now. I shall go to see her in the 
 morning." 
 
 ''Just as you like," he answered. 
 The clock struck one. She put the book 
 aside and got up. 
 
 I'm going to bed," she said ; ''good night." 
 He opened the door for her — an act which 
 had very often been omitted during their life 
 together, and which was done now instinctively. 
 When an hour or two had passed he stretched 
 himself on the sofa. But there were folding- 
 doors to the room too — dividing it from the bed- 
 room — and even when he slept at last she was 
 afraid to sob lest he should be awake and hear. 
 
 275 
 
CHAPTER XXIII 
 
 HIS watch had stopped when he opened 
 his eyes to remembrance. By the Hght, 
 and the look of the street, he saw that it was 
 early. He was horribly tired, but he was glad 
 that he had been disturbed before the servant 
 came in to pull up the blinds. 
 
 He put the cushions and the antimacassar 
 straight, and let himself out on to the pavement. 
 The thought of the last night s scene burdened 
 his mind as he walked, and with all his being 
 he wished that it were he who was to go — that 
 the parting were over — that he weren't obliged 
 to enter the house again. The prospect of the 
 breakfast-table, the dread of playing the scene 
 to a finish in cold blood, made a coward of him. 
 
 He had no club to bend his steps to, and he 
 washed for twopence in a public lavatory. When 
 his return could be delayed no longer he lagged 
 home, to find his wife already up. Her pallor 
 shocked him ; he looked away as he said ''Good 
 morning." 
 
 Good morning," she murmured. 
 
 276 
 
when Love Flies Out o' the Window 
 
 Presently the teapot was brought in, and they 
 took their seats. She passed his cup, and he 
 served the bacon. The pretence of eating was 
 very pitiful, and the heavy silence was broken only 
 when one of them said ''Thank you.'' To the 
 man, knowing that he had created the situation, 
 it was even more oppressing than to the woman, 
 whose resentment afforded her some slight sup- 
 port. 
 
 After about ten minutes she pushed back her 
 chair, and went into the bedroom. When he 
 followed her she was putting on her hat. 
 Lingham stood by the wardrobe awkwardly, 
 his hands in his pockets ; 
 
 '' Where are you going ? '' 
 To see Miss Stewart,'' she said. She drove 
 the pin in. 
 
 ''Look here," he exclaimed, "why should you 
 go off to-day ? I thought we were parting be- 
 cause we both felt it was the best thing ? You're 
 behaving as if I'd turned you out. It's wrong, 
 it isn't fair. Let's take a few days to — to talk 
 it over. It's damned nonsense, your rushing out 
 of the place like this. It's ridiculous." 
 
 "What is there to talk over.^" she replied 
 unsteadily. "We've settled it." 
 
 "Settled it? We cant separate at an hour's 
 277 
 
when Love Flies 
 
 notice. . . . Take your hat off ; if we re going to 
 part, let's part like sensible people." 
 
 There s nothing to be gained by . . . Were 
 both of the same mind as we were last night." 
 She paused for a second. If Miss Stewart is 
 willing to have me — and I'm sure she will be — 
 I would rather go at once. Tm not behaving 
 at all as if — in the way you say. It's because 
 we do both feel it's for the best that there's 
 nothing more to be said about it. We've nobody 
 to consult ; we've only ourselves to think about. 
 Every day we waited now — Why should we be 
 weak ? You must see what it would be like 
 . . . it would be awful, you must see it ! " Her 
 voice quavered. 
 
 He did see it ; he hadn't lost sight of it while 
 he spoke ; but there was the aversion from her 
 going so suddenly, although he wished she had 
 already gone. He stared at the ground, wonder- 
 ing what to say next. There was a knock, and 
 Mrs. Watkins put her head in, and inquired if 
 she might make the bed. Meenie said, '*Yes, 
 you can come in, Mrs. Watkins." He did not 
 know whether he was sorry or relieved ; he 
 lounged back to the drawing-room. 
 
 The afternoon was unspeakably painful. Diffi- 
 dent of offering to accelerate her preparations, 
 
 278 
 
Out o' the Window 
 
 he paced the floor, listening to the sounds of her 
 packing behind the folding-doors, and knowing 
 how troublesome a task she always found it. At 
 last he rang the bell and gave the little servant 
 a shilling to go to help her. 
 
 Even when one s world is represented by a 
 landlady one studies appearances ; he wished he 
 knew what explanation Meenie had made, and 
 decided to say nothing himself for fear of con- 
 tradicting it. He winced to realise that he was 
 considering so trivial a matter at such a crisis, 
 but all the same, he meant to leave before he 
 could be embarrassed by questions. 
 
 Meenie came in from the bedroom with her 
 hat and gloves on ; she wore a veil, which was 
 not her custom. 
 
 Good-bye," she said. 
 
 Good-bye.'' He hesitated, and they looked 
 at each other. Her hand moved incipiently, and 
 he put out his own. 
 
 Each wished from the depth of a heart that 
 she had gone. 
 
 He followed her down the stairs. She hurried 
 into the cab, with an inward prayer that he 
 wouldn't speak to her again at the window. The 
 servant repeated her instructions to the driver, 
 and Lingham wondered what they were : to Miss 
 
 279 
 
when Love Flies 
 
 Stewart's, or — more tactfully — a railway station ? 
 Mrs. Watkins was in the passage, and, as he 
 turned, she said, Lor, sir, it zs sudden, isn't it?" 
 He said, ''Yes, very!" and passed her, shamed. 
 He could still hear the wheels. 
 
 He knew that it was only sentiment — that 
 to-morrow relief would come ; but there was a 
 lump in his throat, and the room seemed strangely 
 empty all at once. He looked round the other, 
 and his mouth twitched ; the absence of familiar 
 things was poignant to him. He hated himself 
 in the consciousness that he had no right to the 
 knot in his throat, and the blur before his gaze ; 
 he would have thanked Heaven for the right just 
 then— thanked Heaven as he stood there, to feel 
 that the pathos of the sight would endure, that 
 he wasn't moved by the transient tenderness of 
 the moment. The knowledge that he was, for- 
 bade him to grieve while grief filled his eyes ; 
 he sickened at his own emotion. ''O God," 
 he said, ''what am I? I am not even true to 
 myself!" But he had been too true to himself 
 from first to last, for no man can jilt his tempera- 
 ment. 
 
 It was his temperament that made him flee the 
 house before she had been gone an hour ; and 
 it was his temperament that, took him out of an 
 
 280 
 
Out the Window 
 
 attic in Doughty Street to the gallery of the 
 Piccadilly the same night. There, he looked 
 across the crowd at the wife he had just parted 
 from for life ; and the woman whose life had 
 been rent in two that afternoon sang ''Con- 
 sequential Carrie to guffaws. 
 
 He did not go to the theatre again. After 
 a few days he felt, as he had known he would 
 feel, a returning sense of tranquillity ; and on the 
 fourth -floor flat, half a mile away, the women 
 who had both lost their husbands made their 
 home together. 
 
 281 
 
CHAPTER XXIV 
 
 IT was well for Meenie that she had her 
 profession — it was better for her that she 
 had been so fortunate in it. If she had been 
 without occupation, or tramping to the agents' 
 offices now, she would have been wholly 
 miserable. As she rallied from the wrench — as 
 the fierceness of the first pain faded — she was 
 not miserable. She could not be happy ; she 
 had loved him too well, her pride had been 
 wounded too cruelly, for her to be happy ; but 
 she found interest in her pursuits, and tried to 
 feel interest in her future. 
 
 She had attracted notice : it was shown by the 
 offer from the Folly of a part which had been 
 a distinct advance ; in the course of the next few 
 years she might reasonably expect to attain a 
 prominent position — a position in which she 
 would attract more notice still. Here was a 
 situation in which there seemed to be all the 
 potentialities of sexual disaster. She was a 
 woman so young that it was natural to suppose 
 she would one day love again, and she was 
 
 282 
 
When Love Flies Out o' the Window 
 
 debarred from marriage. We read that man 
 was not made to live alone, but Adam had very 
 few resources, and observation shows us that in 
 the present age the statement applies much better 
 to woman. Many men are made to live alone, 
 though they rarely find it out till too late. The 
 average woman needs tenderness, as the average 
 man needs tobacco. To her it is not a distraction, 
 it is a daily necessity — as was said long ago in 
 a couplet. It was not surprising that Meenie 
 failed to consider the contingency at this period ; 
 it is impossible to declare that time might not 
 have tempted her — one only answers for the 
 unforeseen at the altar — but it is difficult to 
 believe that she would ever have succumbed. 
 
 The little girl, with her blue eyes and her 
 gentle voice, was strong, or she would have 
 fallen long before she met the man she married. 
 The potentialities were for all to see, but beneath 
 lay the force of character which had already 
 served her well. And she had another safeguard 
 — she loved him, and it would take her many 
 years to forget. 
 
 Japonica Jones ran till the spring, and during 
 all the months she had no glimpse or word of 
 him. Often when she was out she trembled to 
 think that they might come face to face — she 
 
 283 
 
when Love Flies 
 
 could not have sworn whether she feared or 
 hoped it might happen — but, though they missed 
 each other by ten minutes a dozen times, they 
 never met. 
 
 She took in the Chronicle, and, before she sat 
 down to breakfast, looked for the ^'Writers and 
 Readers " column. Dynasties might totter, but 
 it would always be the ''Writers and Readers'' 
 column that she looked for first ; it promised her 
 more excitement than any cablegram. Though 
 the promise was never kept, the literary page 
 was dear to her, because she knew that it was 
 read regularly by Lingham. It even pleased her 
 to imagine the sentiments with which he read 
 each morning. Sometimes she could hear him 
 give off his short laugh — rather like a bark, that 
 laugh, though it had its melody in remembrance 
 — and then their division was bridged by the 
 thought that they were appreciating the same 
 thing at the same hour. 
 
 At last, in April, she saw his name under 
 Received To-day,'' and sped prematurely to the 
 Strand to buy the book. Athirst, she obtained 
 a copy at the publisher's. The opening chapters 
 had been written before he cast her off, and her 
 keenest emotion lay in reading the rest. The 
 work that followed was the voice, the mind, of 
 
 284 
 
Out o' the Window 
 
 him after she had gone, and she pored over it, 
 tracing the rills of reflection to their source, 
 listening for murmurs of significance that were 
 not there — peering between the lines into the 
 mood from which they flowed. 
 
 Because she was very fond of her friend — and 
 eager to hear Ralph praised — she lent the novel 
 to her. Because her friend was very fond of 
 Meenie — and disposed to see no merit in any- 
 thing her husband did — she said limply that it 
 was ''all right." They had never come so near 
 to sharp words. 
 
 Nor did they ever come so near again. Actors 
 and actresses can seldom foretell their movements 
 long ahead. To-day they may be settled in 
 London, and to-morrow preparing to go to the 
 Antipodes ; allusions to Melbourne or New York 
 fall as trippingly from their tongues as addresses 
 in Brighton or Bow ; and one night when Miss 
 Stewart came in from the theatre where she was 
 playing there was food for discussion. 
 
 '' My dear," exclaimed Meenie, as she entered, 
 '' what do you think I have been offered this 
 evening ? 
 
 Lead at the Lane ! " said Miss Stewart 
 promptly, for she could make a joke now. You 
 have such a commanding presence." 
 
 285 
 
when Love Flies 
 
 They re sending Japonica to New York in 
 the autumn, and they have asked me if I would 
 like to go over ^ with it! I don't know what to 
 say. ... I don't think I should." 
 
 *^Why not?" asked the other. 'Mt would be 
 the best thing for you. Why shouldn't you go ?" 
 
 To put the Atlantic between herself and Ling- 
 ham was one objection, but the woman was loth 
 to acknowledge that, even in her thoughts. 
 I should miss you so," she said. 
 
 '*Youll probably miss me anyhow. I don't 
 expect I shall be able to stay long in town ; when 
 I'm on tour you'll have the flat to yourself." 
 
 And that's another thing ! " said Meenie. 
 ''What about the flat? It costs a lot to live 
 in New York, doesn't it ? I don't know if I 
 should be able to pay my share of the rent while 
 I was away." 
 
 ''Well, of course you wouldn't pay your share 
 while you were away. What an idea ! Besides, 
 if you go, I shan't renew the agreement. I've 
 been thinking. I don't want the place, seeing 
 that I shall be in the provinces six or eight 
 months out of the year. I'm not like you — 
 you'll come back to the West End ; you're 
 getting on." 
 
 " I shall owe a lot of it to you, if I do ; you 
 286 
 
Out o' the Window 
 
 have taught me heaps, Lucy. It's funny 
 
 She hesitated. 
 
 Oh, you may say it," said Miss Stewart. 
 ''It's funny that I can tell you how things ought 
 to be done, thoiigh I'm not able to do them 
 myself. You'll find plenty of people in the 
 profession like that. I've the instinct — I see 
 how an effect can be made ; but when I try to 
 make it myself, I'm awkward. If you imitated 
 me you would be awkward too, but you don't ; 
 you see what I mean, and do it gracefully. . . . 
 Now don't be a goose ; tell them to-morrow that 
 you'll go. What are the terms ? " 
 
 " I didn't ask. I suppose they ought to be 
 more to go to America, oughtn't they.'^" 
 
 " Certainly they ought ; it's always more for 
 America. And you had better buy everything 
 you're likely to want before you sail — and wear 
 it first, too — clothes cost a fortune in the States ! 
 . . . A change like that is just what you need ; 
 it will keep you from brooding." 
 
 I don't brood," said Meenie, flushing ; '' I 
 don't know why you should say such a thing ! " 
 
 But she knew perfectly, and it was for this 
 reason — because she despised herself for clinging 
 to the city that held her husband — that she found 
 the courage to say ''yes " next day. 
 
 287 
 
when Love Flies 
 
 Many times during the summer she wished 
 that she had not ; once or twice, but for the fear 
 of betraying her weakness to Miss Stewart, she 
 would have tried to annul the contract. As 
 September drew near, her aversion increased. 
 She was going with strangers to a strange 
 country, and leaving behind everything except 
 bitter memories. Now she would have can- 
 celled the contract and defied her friend s rebukes, 
 but it was too late. It seemed to her that, alone 
 and so far away, her thoughts would be harder 
 to bear. She hoped that America would scorn 
 the production, and that the company would be 
 sent back in a week. 
 
 One evening, when her departure was very 
 near indeed, an impulse was too strong to be 
 denied, and carelessly — so carelessly that the 
 other had no suspicion — she proposed a stroll. 
 The two women sauntered round Russell Square 
 into Southampton Row, and came to the big 
 lamp-post of Guilford Street. Now the elder 
 understood, and affected unconsciousness of where 
 she was being led. Meenie turned the corner, 
 talking rapidly ; it was the first time she had 
 entered the street since the afternoon last year 
 when she drove away. The hotel was much 
 higher now, but, beyond, the road was being 
 
 288 
 
Out o' the Window 
 
 mended, as usual, and she could see patches of 
 familiar scaffolding. 
 
 Presently they approached the house. Miss 
 Stewart, who remembered the number very well, 
 was silent, and more unmindful still. Meenie 
 looked lingeringly at the windows. Behind the 
 dirty curtains the gasalier was ablaze ; she won- 
 dered who lived in the rooms now. Her footsteps 
 lagged — she would have liked to stop ; the house 
 was passed too quickly, and she felt a new sense 
 of loss. 
 
 When they reached the Foundling, Miss 
 Stewart said — 
 
 Shall we turn back ? I'm rather tired." 
 Just as you like,'' answered Meenie, careless 
 
 too. 
 
 And though Miss Stewart knew, and Meenie 
 knew^ that she must know, neither admitted to 
 the other by any words that they had not been 
 taking an aimless walk. Only they were quieter 
 than usual when they sat at home again ; and 
 when they said ''Good night" Meenie put her 
 arms round her friend s neck and kissed her. 
 
 T 
 
 289 
 
CHAPTER XXV 
 
 TO Lingham, the year during which Meenie 
 lived with Miss Stewart had not been void 
 of instruction. After that returning sense of tran- 
 quillity — after his renewed enjoyment in work 
 which again sufficed for his needs — he had learnt 
 that the past is irrecoverable. In theory he had 
 known it ; in practice it was a strange lesson. 
 He had set back the clock, but he had not re- 
 gained the spirit of the time. He had shaken 
 himself free, but the buoyancy of freedom was 
 absent His wife had gone ; materially his life 
 was the life of the period before he knew her ; 
 but externals could no more restore the serenity 
 of the period to him than to play with a top could 
 make him feel fourteen. 
 
 At first the knowledge of his loneliness was 
 fitful ; he shrank from regret as he had shrunk 
 from it in the hour of the good-bye, distrustful of 
 his own emotions. It was slowly he awoke to 
 the perception that though he might draw a chair 
 to the hearth, and open a book in silence, the 
 contentment of solitude had been outlived. It 
 
 290 
 
when Love Flies Out o' the Window 
 
 was by degrees he realised that though a fool can 
 put a woman s arms from him, only God can still 
 the thought of her. 
 
 He missed her ; he missed her more than he 
 could credit for a long while. Even while they 
 were happy together, he had not dreamed that 
 her loss would tear so deep a cleft in his life. 
 He had not known she was so dear to him. 
 Perhaps she had not been so dear. And because 
 she was still living she throbbed in his memory 
 always. If he had lost her by death, his world 
 would have blossomed over the fissure sooner ; 
 when the lips are dumb, the echoes grow faint ; 
 but alive, she haunted him. 
 
 As long as she was playing in town he could 
 know that she was not ill ; and while she remained 
 at the Folly, the Chronicle s advertisement of the 
 theatre showed him her name each day. As 
 the woman had sought regularly for his in the 
 Writers and Readers " column, so the man 
 looked for hers on the fourth page. And every 
 morning he read that his wife was well — under 
 the clock that completed the record of Two. 
 
 After Japonica Jones finished, the Chronicle 
 gave him no further news of her. It was when 
 he was denied the daily sight of her name that 
 he realised how precious it had become. The 
 
 291 
 
when Love Flies 
 
 paper was foreign to him, and their division 
 yawned more blankly. One Saturday he bought 
 the Era, and by this he learnt that she had gone 
 to New York. He paled ; the paragraph struck 
 him with dismay. Now it seemed to him that 
 while London held them both there had been an 
 impalpable link between them. He re-read the 
 paragraph mechanically a dozen times ; and in 
 the consciousness that he could not see her, that 
 all chance of their meeting was removed, he felt 
 forlorn when he went out. 
 
 Nor did he ever forget that she had gone from 
 the city when he walked. It was revealed to him 
 that hitherto his eyes had always been eager in 
 the streets, that deep in his heart there had lurked 
 a faint expectation of something he had not 
 defined — something that could never happen now. 
 He could throw doubts on his sincerity no longer ; 
 he had ceased to try ; and he knew that, though he 
 had made a rash marriage, he had loved his wife. 
 
 In Oxford Street, one afternoon, he caught 
 sight of Georgina, and darted under the horses' 
 heads to avoid her. She would want to call, and 
 it would be odious to have to explain the circum- 
 stances, or tell her falsehoods. Through the 
 winter he often bought the Era or the Stage, 
 but he gathered no tidings of Meenie from either 
 
 292 
 
Out o' the Window 
 
 Between him and Parlett her name was never 
 mentioned, and he remained ignorant whether she 
 had come back to England or not. Then, with 
 the spring, his interest in New York was em- 
 phasised by a surprising letter forwarded to him 
 by Mr. Alport. It was as if his luck had turned 
 
 too late. a Hawthorne Theatre, 
 
 New York, N.Y. 
 
 "Dear Sir,— 
 
 " I have read with much enjoyment your novel 
 called Angela Brown — Publisher. It might be con- 
 verted into a very entertaining comedy. I should be 
 glad to hear from you by an early mail if you are dis- 
 posed to submit a dramatic version of your book to me. 
 If you conclude to do so, the MS. shall receive my 
 immediate attention. u Yours truly, 
 
 "Ellis M'Crea." 
 
 Ellis M'Crea was almost as well known to 
 theatrical London as to America. Even Ling- 
 ham had often heard him mentioned. He was 
 the manager of two of the principal theatres of 
 New York, and the fountain-head of a score of 
 dramatic enterprises. No more encouraging in- 
 vitation could have been received, and the author's 
 impulse was to post the comedy to him immedi- 
 ately. A chat with Parlett, however, made it 
 clear that this would be indiscreet. 
 
 If you do," said the playwright, you will 
 293 
 
when Love Flies 
 
 give it a black eye before he looks at it, for he'll 
 guess that it has been refused in twenty quarters 
 already. Say you'll start work on it at once ; and 
 send a clean copy of it to him in a month s time. 
 Trust to Poppa ! " 
 
 So Lingham wrote that he would be pleased to 
 submit a stage version of the novel a few weeks 
 hence, and when he came to re-read the version 
 that was made he was thankful that he had taken 
 advice. It was nearly two years since he had 
 studied the manuscript, and he saw scope for 
 various improvements, several lines that appeared 
 to him clumsy, one scene which, after a fortnight 
 of indecision, he decided to eliminate. 
 
 It was in the first Act ; in the book it did not 
 exist at all ; but, though he hated to delete it, he 
 feared that it would have become the book better 
 than the play. It seemed to him too delicate, too 
 literary for the footlights. He dreaded lest, coming 
 so early in the piece, it should prejudice M'Crea 
 against the rest. Parlett s warning to him had be- 
 gotten timidity, and he was even afraid that if he 
 were tedious in the opening pages, the manuscript 
 might be tossed aside without further perusal. 
 
 He tore the sheets out — only two of them, but 
 it was like losing his heart s blood. So pretty a 
 scene, although it delayed the entrance of the 
 
 294 
 
Out o' the Window 
 
 osses ! He polished, and re-polished, and scruti- 
 nised again ; and when the typewriting office had 
 done its work he despatched the four acts to 
 M'Crea, and counted the days. 
 
 And in May came another envelope stamped 
 
 Hawthorne Theatre, N.Y.C." ; and he found 
 with something like stupefaction — for he would 
 soon be forty, and he had never had any good 
 fortune in his life — that an agreement was en- 
 closed for his consideration. 
 
 With publishers' proposals he was familiar — he 
 had one that he preserved as a curiosity — but of 
 such agreements as this he knew nothing, and now 
 Parlett s experience was invaluable. The coolness 
 with which Parlett ran his pen through clauses, 
 and scribbled figures in the margin, filled the 
 novice at once with gratitude and misgiving ; and 
 when it was stipulated that the piece should be 
 produced within twelve months, or a hundred 
 pounds forfeited, he began to feel that M'Crea 
 would write a very rude reply. 
 
 Nevertheless, M'Crea s native politeness, or the 
 justice of the alterations, averted friction. The 
 amendments were accepted, and by a note that ac- 
 companied the new contract Lingham learnt that 
 the comedy was to be put on at the Hawthorne as 
 early as next fall — in another word, the autumn. 
 
 He was still unaware whether Meenie had 
 295 
 
when Love Flies 
 
 returned. If he had bought the theatrical jour- 
 nals as systematically as he had looked for her 
 name in the newspaper, he would have known 
 where she was. Thinking that she might be 
 playing in New York yet, the idea of going over 
 there to attend the rehearsals of his piece fasci- 
 nated him doubly. 
 
 There were no monetary difficulties in the way ; 
 he was spending little more than his salary, and 
 his recent royalties from Alport would amply 
 suffice for the purpose. The prospect thrilled 
 him. On the public s reception of his piece hung 
 his future, and he would be there to listen to the 
 verdict. He knew that he was building on the 
 play for more than some thousands of pounds, 
 for more than the triumphant entrance to a fresh 
 and lucrative career ; he knew that he was 
 building on it to give him back his wife. If it 
 succeeded he would go to her ; he would ask her 
 forgiveness ; he would own what life had been 
 without her, and implore her to trust her happi- 
 ness to him again. The uneventful summer 
 dragged distressingly. In August he counted 
 the days from mail to mail, and when September 
 reached its end, and there was silence still, he 
 could bear the anxiety no longer. He wrote an 
 eager inquiry. He was startled to learn by the 
 
 answer that his comedy was already in rehearsal. 
 
 296 
 
Out o' the Window 
 
 Though he had not informed the manager of his 
 intention to go over, he had taken it for granted 
 that he would hear from him in good time. He 
 was chagrined to feel that he had lost many sweet 
 days. He was, however, more chagrined in the 
 course of a few hours, for soon afterwards a cable- 
 gram was delivered stating that another play was 
 to be the next production, after all. 
 
 Another! He flung the message in the fender 
 with a gasp. Parlett had known his world ! 
 Yes, and very likely another, and yet another 
 play, would be put on first. After his hopes and 
 thanksgivings and expectations, all he might get 
 out of the contract was the forfeit. Fortunately 
 he had not booked a berth, but his disappoint- 
 ment blackened the sunshine to him. When he 
 went to the office Mr. Hunt said, How soon do 
 you mean to start, Lingham ? " The question 
 was a lance. In the evening he received some 
 clothes. He had ordered them in anticipation of 
 his journey, and he mused bitterly that they would 
 be worn out before the journey was made. 
 
 A month passed, and when confidence was re- 
 viving in him and he was beginning to put faith 
 in the spring, there came a second cablegram — 
 " Produce Angela sixteenth instant — M'Crea." 
 
 In the first few moments he only knew that 
 the date was convulsively near ; then he made 
 
 297 
 
When' Love Flies 
 
 out that it meant a Wednesday — that it meant 
 a week from the morrow. He was a little dizzy. 
 So the other man's play had proved a failure ? 
 He had not taken that contingency into account. 
 He tried to be sorry for him, but rejoicing flooded 
 his soul. He ran from the house and sprang into 
 a hansom, and secured a passage by a boat that 
 sailed the following afternoon. The clerk told 
 him that she was due in New York on Tuesday. 
 He might miss the last of the rehearsals, but 
 he would arrive in time for the first night ! 
 
 Mr. Hunt bade him au revoir, and wished him 
 luck. In Belsize Avenue there were more con- 
 gratulations. His packing was the work of half 
 an hour, and in the morning, as he sped to 
 Euston, the jingle of the horse s bell made music 
 to his ears. 
 
 Liverpool. The crowd of tired spectators at 
 the intermediate taffrail, the yawning hold, the 
 shouts ashore, the bustle and the questions on 
 the boat. Everywhere the American accent. 
 Would these people see his play ? He was 
 led to his cabin, and wondered how he would 
 contrive to find it again. He returned to the 
 deck ; confusion reigned there still. Why didn't 
 the boat start? He was irritated by the view 
 across the vessel's side, eager to feel they moved. 
 
 298 
 
Out the Window 
 
 There was the welcome throb, the receding quay. 
 The voyage had begun. 
 
 But abortively. There came the stoppage at 
 Queenstown, the delay there, the disconcerting 
 news that the brilliant passages of five days 
 and a half were reckoned from Queenstown, and 
 not from Liverpool. Why ignore the eighteen 
 intervening hours?" he demanded; ''everybody 
 didn't live in Ireland.'' ''Ocean steaming!" 
 he was answered, and tried to persuade himself 
 that he had just come aboard. 
 
 Still they were to land on Tuesday. So let 
 them hang about the ports — what did it matter ? 
 When they had finished fooling, and torn them- 
 selves away, they must go to work, and make 
 the time good. After the morning on which 
 he learnt that the day's run was posted at noon 
 for the satisfaction of the curious and the settle- 
 ment of sweepstakes, he was always among the 
 first who bolted down the companion to see what 
 it had been. When it fell from four hundred and 
 fifty-six knots to four hundred and forty-four, his 
 spirits fell in proportion. 
 
 And on Sunday the boat stopped again. What 
 for now ? No one knew. He sauntered to and 
 fro, fuming. Two hours, three hours crept by 
 before she moved. He prayed that the next run 
 
 299 
 
When Love Flies 
 
 posted would equalise matters, but he trembled ; 
 and when he looked on Monday it had fallen 
 to figures of dismay. The other men dispersed, 
 grumbling. The appearance of the captain was 
 the signal for loungers to quicken their steps, 
 and women in deck-chairs to drop their books, 
 and for everybody to say, *'When do you think 
 we shall get in, Captain ? " 
 
 Impatience quivered in Lingham. The thought 
 of landing on the morrow was dead, and already 
 he was sick with the fear that they might not 
 arrive by Wednesday night. There were moments 
 when the lethargic pulsations of the sluggish 
 steamer maddened him ; when the limitless waste 
 of sunlit sea filled him with rage. His play! 
 Suspense fevered his blood ; the curtain might 
 rise on his play before he was there ! 
 
 Then he understood. He heard that there 
 was a flaw in the propeller-shaft, and that to 
 steam slowly was their only chance of avoiding a 
 breakdown. His sole comfort was that the flaw 
 hadn't occurred earlier in the voyage : they might 
 touch New York by Wednesday still. In the 
 afternoon — the evening? In time for him to 
 reach the theatre ? In time, at least, for him 
 to see half the play? Then the last Act, if no 
 more ? O God, be merciful : the last Act if 
 
 300 
 
Out o' the Window 
 
 nothing else ! They must be so close, so close ! 
 A spurt might do it. Couldn't they make a 
 spurt ? He wrung his hands. What if they 
 did break down ? Near the harbour it would 
 be cheap enough to be towed in. 
 
 And leisurely, leisurely, the steamer took her 
 course ; and Wednesday s sunshine faded, and 
 the moon rose — and they were still at sea. 
 Beyond the sullen water the theatre was filling. 
 He leant forard in the silence, tense with the 
 fancied tuning of the band. Over there his work 
 was fighting for his wife ; he stared through the 
 gloom, imagining, questioning. Were there 
 hisses, or applause? On a sudden he remembered 
 reading that in New York an audience were too 
 courteous to hiss — they stole from their seats ; 
 perhaps the people were stealing from them now. 
 The sweat burst out on him, and he quaked in 
 his very soul. 
 
 He looked at his watch : the first Act must 
 be over ! Starboard, where he walked, was de- 
 serted ; a chill wind swept it, and the men who 
 were not below smoked on the other side. Hour 
 after hour he paced the deck alone, as Act by 
 Act his play was cheered, or damned. All that 
 evening he shook with the thought that conquest 
 meant his plea to Meenie — that she must, she 
 should forgive ! The ship s bells broke sharply 
 
 301 
 
When Love Flies Out o' the Window 
 
 on the hush in midnight ; the curtain must have 
 fallen now — the lights were out. Had he won, or 
 lost ? The fight was finished — and his wife the 
 prize. He grew conscious that he was very 
 cold ; the stars shone serenely, and, shivering, he 
 sought a message in them. All his pulses craved 
 it. Had he won, or lost ? 
 
 But there was none to tell him till the morrow. 
 When he woke the coast was clear, and the pilot 
 in command. The passengers flocked from their 
 cabins, he with the rest. Around him there was 
 laughter, but he could not laugh ; anxiety held 
 him voiceless. America stretched to greet them ; 
 the Statue of Liberty rose triumphant in the port. 
 Glasses were levelled and borrowed. Women 
 disappeared, and returned looking different in 
 bonnets and veils. The health-boat approached, 
 and grew big ; he gasped to hear the morning 
 papers were inside. Nearer and nearer drew the 
 boat; he could see the white sheaf of dailies" 
 under a man's arm. The officers swarmed 
 aboard. There was a clamour for the news. 
 He rushed to where the papers were besieged. 
 
 The man cried, ''Herald? Tribune? Sun? 
 World? Which do you want?" 
 
 All ! " he said, all ! " and grasped them with 
 a prayer. 
 
 302 
 
CHAPTER XXVI 
 
 SUCCESS ! The headlines leapt from the 
 sheet. Biggest Kind of a Hit at the 
 Hawthorne : M'Crea Discovers a New English 
 Dramatist." The journal shook in his clutch. 
 
 Enthusiastic Plaudits by a Delighted Multi- 
 tude." God bless America! One after another 
 he read the morning criticisms while the steamer 
 floated closer to the quay, and often he had to 
 pause because the columns swam together. 
 
 He could ask Meenie to leave the stage, and 
 to come back to him ! He could give her all she 
 needed, more than she would relinquish ; already 
 eight pounds a week was insignificant to his view. 
 He would go to her to-day if she were in New 
 York — directly he had seen M'Crea. He realised 
 that the papers should show him if she was play- 
 ing in the city, and he rustled the Herald im- 
 petuously. The light, unfamiliar type of the 
 advertisements was blurred for a moment, and 
 primarily he distinguished nothing. Then he 
 perceived that the theatres here printed no 
 complete list of the players ; few of them men- 
 
 303 
 
when Love Flies 
 
 tioned more than their *'star." So he could 
 gain no information from the page ? He was 
 disappointed. The next instant her name flashed 
 out to him in capital letters. Meenie Weston 
 — Watteau Theatre — Last Nights of The Lady 
 and the Lilacs His heart missed a beat. 
 
 He looked long at the name which had all at 
 once so strange an air. Then she must be well 
 known now ; she had sprung into prominence. 
 There could hardly be another Meenie Weston " 
 on the stage? His excitement sank a little; a 
 breath of misgiving cooled his joy. In his 
 reveries her circumstances had remained the 
 same, and the revolution confused him ; his 
 mind would not adjust itself immediately to the 
 unforeseen. 
 
 From the bustle of the custom-house he stood 
 aloof; his portmanteau lay awhile unclaimed. 
 Then he noticed it and produced his keys, and 
 saw the chalk flourished. His belongings were 
 hoisted to a cab, and he was bumped over the 
 cobbled roads towards the hotel which had been 
 recommended to him. 
 
 The drive was a short one, but the fare re- 
 quired was staggering even in his abstraction. 
 The high, wide window, descending almost to 
 the pavement, imparted to the exterior of the 
 
 304 
 
Out o' the Window 
 
 hotel the aspect of a shop in which they exposed 
 for sale nothing but chairs and men's legs. A 
 churl at the desk admitted that he could stay 
 there if he liked, and the first lift that he had 
 entered in a country where they understand that 
 a lift is intended to save time — though they waste 
 time by the name they give it — shot him to a room 
 in which he could order everything, from a sherry- 
 cobbler to a fire-engine, by pressing buttons. 
 
 It was only ten o'clock. Though he was 
 impatient to obtain a verbal account of the 
 production, it would be futile to present himself 
 at the theatre so early. In his eagerness on 
 the boat he had swallowed nothing this morning 
 but a cup of coffee, and he awoke to the fact that 
 he was extremely hungry. He went down to the 
 dining-room, and learnt what a breakfast ought 
 to be ; but he wished that the waiter hadn't 
 brought him all the courses at once. 
 
 In the hall he bought a cigar, and picked up 
 a periodical that lay there. Her name startled 
 his eyes again: ''The ' Meenie Weston'! We 
 introduce a very striking trimmed velvet hat, 
 a creation from our own workroom. Simple, but 
 a simplicity with a most attractive effect." . . . 
 And once more : The ' Meenie Weston' Belt ; 
 made of grey suede, white calf, patent leather, 
 u 305 
 
when Love Flies 
 
 and black seal. Gilt buckles. 50 cents each, 
 worth $1.25." . . . Yes, his wife had become 
 well known ! 
 
 He put the periodical down, and sauntered out 
 into the streets. Misgiving blew bleakly in him 
 now. These things meant popularity ; they 
 meant public adulation. What if she were un- 
 willing to come back to him ? It seemed to 
 him suddenly that he had very little to offer 
 her. She must be paid a large salary, admired, 
 flattered — possibly loved ! The colour left his 
 face. She had touched her apex — the apex of 
 the opera-bouffe stage — and she was alone ; he 
 
 had neglected her. Supposing ? No, no, 
 
 by Heaven ! he knew her too thoroughly to 
 tremble for that. But there might be another 
 man she liked — one to whom she would have 
 wished to go. She might be chafing at the tie 
 that hindered her. And the man — the man ! the 
 man would be strong only to oppose her virtue. 
 Oh, he knew well what the man would say ! 
 He heard himself described in her lover's appeals 
 — a husband who had never valued her, who had 
 left her to temptation with a shrug, a cad who 
 was unworthy her remembrance. A furious hatred 
 of the unknown man assailed him, a longing to 
 grip him by the throat, and feel him writhe. 
 
 306 
 
Out o' the Window 
 
 A hoarding displayed her to him abruptly ; a 
 vast poster from which she smiled on the world. 
 He stood and stared at it. Though it told him 
 nothing of the woman's thoughts, the sight of 
 the actress's gaiety was painful to him. She 
 laughed through a lilac bush, her arms bearing 
 down the boughs. The poster was a patch of 
 vivid blue, the flowering tree, and Meenie. 
 
 Presently he inquired of a policeman — fat, 
 florid, arrogant, twirling his staff — in which 
 direction the Hawthorne Theatre lay. The 
 policeman said sharply, How's that ? " and 
 when the question was repeated, added with a 
 scowl, ''Through the park." 
 
 Lingham strolled on. He came to no park, 
 and it did not occur to him to associate the term 
 with a square he saw. In perplexity at last he 
 ventured to apply to a business-man evidently 
 in a hurry. The business-man in a hurry offered 
 to turn back and conduct him to where he wished 
 to go. Information sufficed, however, and in a 
 few minutes he had reached the house. He went 
 to the box-office, and, when he mentioned his 
 name, was told that M'Crea was on the stage. 
 Would he go round, or should the clerk let the 
 manager know he was there ? He answered that 
 he would ''go round." 
 
 307 
 
when Love Flies 
 
 His card brought M'Crea to the door effusively, 
 a gaunt, loosely clothed man of middle-age, with 
 twinkling eyes. 
 
 My dear sir, I am pleased to meet you ! " he 
 exclaimed. '*Why didn't you come last night? 
 You have missed a treat, Mr. Lingham. You 
 have seen the notices, I guess ? Sir, the piece 
 went with a bang. I congratulate you. We 
 have got a fortune here, sir, and don't you forget 
 it. There is a call this morning for just a few 
 points ; come right in ! " 
 
 He led the way through a passage. The com- 
 pany had already assembled, and Lingham found 
 himself presented, not undramatically : 
 
 Ladies and gentlemen — the author of the 
 piece ! 
 
 There was general surprise and gratification ; 
 the principal members came forward with ex- 
 tended hands, and felicitated him on his success. 
 The leading lady told him her part was ''just 
 lovely " ; and everybody demanded the reason 
 he had not come last night, the name of the 
 boat he had crossed by, and what he thought 
 of America. 
 
 ''Will you go in front, Mr. Lingham," said 
 M'Crea, "or will you remain right here, sir?" 
 
 '' I think ril go in the stalls/' said Lingham, 
 308 
 
Out o' the Window 
 
 pointing, and the prompter took him down to the 
 seats he had misnamed. 
 
 The manager pulled some typewritten memor- 
 anda from his pocket briskly — 
 
 ''We will run through Act one," he said. 
 There are several points that dragged in Act 
 one ; that business with the letter made me tired. 
 See here, this thing has got to go like clock- 
 work ! " 
 
 The rehearsal began ; and alone in the audi- 
 torium, viewing the bare, ill-lighted stage, Ling- 
 ham saw the characters of his creation simulated 
 by men and women who resembled them not at 
 all. His emotion was deep disappointment. It 
 was in vain he reminded himself that they were 
 not dressed for the parts, that they weren't made 
 up ; he could not feel that the power of clothes, 
 and paint, and false hair was strong enough to 
 endow even one of them with any likeness to 
 his mental pictures. But in America they act 
 at rehearsals. Gradually he lost sight of the 
 fact that these were strangers pretending to be 
 Angela and her companions ; he began to accept 
 their own statements. That was said just as 
 the Angela of his heart had said it ! That was 
 just what Angela would have done! Interest 
 succeeded disillusion ; he leant forward eagerly. 
 
 309 
 
When Love Flies 
 
 He was charmed — he wanted to clap his hands. 
 Then, on a sudden, all his pleasure was 
 swallowed in amazement : they were speaking 
 the lines he had sacrificed, the lines of the two 
 pages he had cut out. 
 
 No, no ! " he cried involuntarily. 
 
 ''Hows that?'' said M'Crea, looking down. 
 One moment, ladies and gentlemen ! What is 
 wrong, Mr. Lingham ? " 
 
 ''That scene isn't in," stammered Lingham, 
 rising. The company all pausing for his correc- 
 tion, the sound of his voice dominating the 
 theatre, disconcerted him, " That scene is not 
 played." 
 
 "I guess so/' replied M'Crea ; "it was played 
 last night — and it seemed pretty healthy then ! 
 With your permission, we will let it go at 
 that?" 
 
 Lingham murmured confusedly, and sat down 
 again. He listened bewildered. He had de- 
 stroyed the pages with his own hands ; by what 
 magic did they come here ? In the manuscript 
 he had forwarded they didn't exist ; in only two 
 manuscripts had they ever existed. From one he 
 had torn them. . . . The other — the knowledge 
 rushed through him — the other had belonged to 
 Meenie ! 
 
 310 
 
Out o' the Window 
 
 To Meenie ! Only Meenie had had this 
 scene. . . . But how could M'Crea have known 
 she had it ? Even if she rejoiced to hear the 
 piece was coming out, why should she have 
 written to him to say she had a copy ? . . . Yet 
 she had done something of the kind — it was 
 plain, luminous ! Then she must care a little 
 still ; it was proof she wasn't indifferent. 
 ■ He ceased to attend to the rehearsal ; he was 
 engrossed by conjecture. When he was joined 
 by M'Crea at last, he complimented him on his 
 stage-management in a breath, and blurted his 
 astonishment. 
 
 " Mr. M'Crea,'' he said, " I have nothing against 
 that scene — on the contrary, it was a favourite 
 scene of mine — I cut it out simply because I was 
 afraid it was in the way. But I did cut it out. 
 I never sent it to you, and it wasn't in the novel. 
 If you have no objection to telling me, I should 
 very much like to hear how you got it." 
 
 What s the matter with the scene, anyhow ? " 
 returned the manager. You are the first author 
 I ever struck who had his knife into one of his 
 own scenes. Queerest thing I ever heard in my 
 life ! " 
 
 Lingham looked at him doubtfully. " Will you 
 answer another question, then ? " he said. Did 
 
 311 
 
When Love Flies 
 
 Miss Meenie Weston come to any of the re- 
 hearsals ? " 
 
 ''She did not, sir/' said M'Crea, ''never one." 
 " You know her ? " 
 
 '"Know her 7 Well, I guess all N'York 
 knows her — as an artiste. Meenie Weston, sir, 
 has been as fortunate on this side as one of our 
 Amurrican belles has lately been on yours : she 
 had no position to speak of at home, and in 
 N'York she became the rage. Yes, sir^ I know 
 Meenie Weston, and a sweet, good, honest little 
 woman she is ; take it from her manager ! If 
 you are keen on seeing her performance, I shall 
 be pleased to accommodate you at the Watteau 
 any evening before we close. 
 
 " Oh, the Watteau is yours too," said Lingham, 
 '' is it I didn't know. Well, never mind the 
 ticket, thanks; will you tell me where she is stay- 
 ing? I want to call." 
 
 M'Crea scribbled on an envelope. " You will 
 do me the justice to inform Miss Weston that I 
 gave you the ^^dress at your request .^^ " he said. 
 "And to repeat our conversation? Will you 
 lunch, Mr. Lingham? No? Well, shake!" 
 
 Lingham grasped his hand, and they made 
 their way together to the street. Here the route 
 was indicated to the nearest "deepot" of the 
 
 312 
 
Out o' the Window 
 
 Elevated Railway. He strode on excitedly ; 
 activity was a delight. The mildness of the 
 ''Indian summer" was past, but the rigour of 
 the winter had not begun, and the clear, keen 
 air was inspiriting. To his new mood the city, 
 in its crystal atmosphere, compelled exhilaration. 
 The Londoner noted how definite, how clean-cut 
 were all the objects that met his view, how truly 
 one saw everything for once. And everything 
 arrested his attention. The splashes of bright 
 colour made by the fruit - stalls at occasional 
 corners ; the public platforms on which men re- 
 clined in elaborate chairs while a negro polished 
 their boots with a strip of flannel ; even the per- 
 fect fashion in which the women wore the pink 
 roses in their jackets — not at all in the English 
 style, not much like the French — each detail 
 stamped itself on him now. Broadway was a 
 narrow stream of traffic, and in perspective the 
 roofs of the swiftly gliding cars looked like 
 white parasols floating in a line. He mounted 
 the steps of the depot ; and, in the corridor 
 train which flew past the first-floor windows, 
 sat between a society woman and a Chinese 
 laundryman till he heard that he had to get 
 out. 
 
 Meenie's address was an hotel at the corner of 
 
 313 
 
when Love Flies 
 
 72nd Street and Lexington Avenue. He inquired 
 nervously if she was in 
 
 ''I guess not/' said the clerk; "what name 
 shall I say?" 
 
 Say her — say ^ Mr. Lingham/ " he answered. 
 Stop, I'll send up my card." And he wrote on 
 it, May I see you ? " 
 
 While he waited his agitation increased. He 
 wondered if, after all, he hadn't argued too much 
 from her interest in the piece ; wondered why he 
 had dared to suppose she would make the sacri- 
 fice he had come to ask. A page-boy relieved 
 the tension ; she was at home. The urchin led 
 led him to a lift, and across a landing, and rapped 
 at a door. 
 
 Her voice said : Come in." 
 
 She was standing. Her face was very pale, 
 and there was no smile in her eyes. His im- 
 pression was of an older woman than he had 
 expected to see ; the interval had robbed her of 
 her girlishness. 
 
 Meenie ! " he said. . . . I — it was good of 
 you to let me come up. I — I arrived this morn- 
 ing ; I've been hoping you were here." 
 
 She did not speak. He held his hat awkwardly, 
 and there was a moment's pause. He was con- 
 scious that she had acquired an air of wealth, 
 
 314 
 
Out o' the Window 
 
 of fashion ; it added to his constraint. He put 
 the hat aside, and moved ^-owards her with slow 
 steps. 
 
 Won't you say something ? " he asked. Are 
 you sorry IVe come ? " 
 
 I was surprised," she said quietly ; I had no 
 idea you were in America.'' 
 
 I came over for the production, but the boat 
 was late. So you have got on, eh ? More than 
 we ever thought about? You deserved it." 
 
 Thank you," she said. I was glad to read 
 of the success of your play. . . . Won't you sit 
 down ? " 
 
 I have just found out you were generous 
 enough to take an interest in it," he murmured. 
 Her brows contracted sharply, and her eyelids fell. 
 
 I can't tell you what that meant to me ! I — 
 Words sound very stupid sometimes — I am grate- 
 ful." He was standing before her still, and now 
 he drew close to her side. " I was coming to you 
 anyhow ; and when I found you hadn't forgotten 
 
 me, I thought — I fancied Meenie, I've been 
 
 sorry every day since you went! I've missed 
 you horribly ; I was a fool, a beast ; I've been 
 ashamed. ... Is it absurd to ask if you can 
 forgive me ? " 
 
 What I had to forgive," she replied, looking 
 315 
 
When Love Flies 
 
 at the ground, I forgave long ago. . . . We 
 separated because we wished it ; there s no need 
 for you or me to be ashamed.'' 
 
 ''You mean," he said, ''you mean that you re 
 content ? '' 
 
 " I mean that what we did was wise." She 
 met his gaze. " We have known it all the time." 
 
 "I haven t known it!" he cried; "you may 
 have known it — not I ! After you had gone I 
 hated myself ; I saw how much I cared for you. 
 Its difficult to speak — to beg you to trust me again 
 is to beg you to give up so much now — but I 
 love you. I made M'Crea tell me where you 
 were ; I hoped to persuade you to come back 
 to me." 
 
 " I am sorry," she answered ; " I was afraid when 
 I saw your name that you had come for that. 
 I hoped you wouldn't say it." 
 
 "Your position is so dear to you?" he muttered 
 blankly. " Or can't you forget how I behaved ? " 
 
 " No," she said, "my position is not so dear to 
 me ; but I understand too well. ... I tried to 
 prevent all this. I was glad to be of use, because 
 — because I remembered all the hopes we had had 
 together, but I never meant you to know what 
 I'd done ; if M'Crea had kept his promise to me, 
 you wouldn't hav-e known. You say you love me 
 
 316 
 
Out o' the Window 
 
 —perhaps even for an hour you think it — but 
 your first word was the right one. You are 
 'grateful/ and thats all." 
 
 ''What is it," said Lingham, "that you think 
 Fm grateful for ? " 
 
 " Oh," she exclaimed, " don't sham to me ! Do 
 you suppose I don't know what has brought you 
 here? Do you suppose I've no pride? Do you 
 take me for a child, that you come and talk 
 to me like this ? ' Love ' ? You thought of me 
 as I used to be ; you imagined me a foolish girl, 
 wretched without you ; you said, ' I owe it all to 
 her, so I must go and make amends ' ! " 
 
 He did not cry out ; he made no movement ; 
 he stood staring at her dumbly. She saw she 
 had divulged the truth to him herself. 
 
 At last he said — 
 
 " If I owe it all to you, Meenie, I am glad. 
 I didn't know it, though, believe me ; I only came 
 because I loved you. . . . Tell me what you did." 
 
 " It was I who first showed the piece to him," 
 she faltered. "He liked it. And then I told him 
 who you were, and that he mustn't mention me. 
 . . . That was why he wrote about the book : he 
 couldn't say that he had read the play." She 
 turned from him trembling ; the tears were in his 
 eyes. 
 
 317 
 
when Love Flies Out o' the Window 
 
 I wish I had been worthier," he whispered. 
 It was nothing," said the woman. 
 There was silence. When he could trust his 
 voice — 
 
 ''I only came because I loved you," he repeated. 
 ''It meant you to me from the beginning ; from 
 the first moment I thought of you and hoped. 
 When I read the notices I was mad to find you. 
 Then I learnt what you had become, and I was 
 afraid. At the rehearsal there was a scene I 
 hadn't sent — I knew that you had had it ; but 
 that was all, on my honour, it was all ! . . . 
 Meenie, I wanted success, because I wanted you ; 
 it s no good to me without you. You have given 
 me the success — won't you give me your love 
 again ? Til do my best to deserve you ; I swear 
 I will ! . . . Will you come back to me ? " 
 
 He waited, because she couldn't speak. Her 
 face was still averted, but he saw the throbbing 
 in her neck. Her hand sought his blindly ; she 
 drew it close to her, and held it to her heart. 
 
 THE END 
 
 Plymouth: W. Bre7idon and Son, Printers. 
 
' THE WORLDLINGS 
 
 BY LEONARD MERRICK. 
 
 " Than the character of Maurice Blake, Mr. Merrick has done nothing better ; it is a 
 really thoughtful study of a thoroughly human and convincing man, a gentleman in 
 spite of his startling lapse from the paths of honesty, admirable in spite of his frailties. 
 As for Helen Cleeve, we can only say that she is almost worthy to rank with Blanche 
 Ellerton, the woman Mr. Merrick has depicted with such a masterly hand in The Actor- 
 Manager. . . . His workmanship is as excellent as ever ; his dramatic power, his 
 sensibility, the keenness of his observation, are as remarkable here as in his previous 
 volumes." — Pall Mall Gazette. 
 
 A good plot, clever characterisation, and a style quick and virile. The plot alone 
 will probably suffice for the hardened devourer of novels, but if the pace is tpo rapid, 
 there is danger of missing the delicate flavour of not a few subtly conceived situations. 
 . . . The restraint of the book is admirable, and it is all the pleasanter to feel the tingle 
 of the blood as we do in the really fine love-passage at the close." — Literature. 
 
 "It shows how much may be made of a trite subject by real literary art. . . . Mr. 
 Merrick's rare gifts of social realism and moral insight convert conventionalities into 
 fascinations. The truthfulness and fineness of his talent have never been more power- 
 fully displayed." — Saturday Review. 
 
 . . A clever book. Mr. Merrick writes with grip . . . puts thought, time, and 
 observation into his work. . . . He writes with a cool head, which is nine times a merit 
 for once that it is a disadvantage. . . . He is a reflective observer, who is not to be 
 carried away by the strangeness, or even the poignancy, of what he observes. The 
 great matter is that he observes well, and faithfully records his observations." — Thnes. 
 
 "Mr. Merrick's aim is always 'to tell a story.' He finds an interesting sequence of 
 events . . . and then proceeds to relate as simply as possible. There is no 'decoration,' 
 no overlaying, no pause for the performance of feats for the gallery. This is right. 
 Some novelists are called artists because they do the very tricks which Mr. Merrick is 
 artist enough to leave alone. The novel is . . . good, quiet, unassuming, severe, digni- 
 fied. The characterisation of the four principal persons is done with genuine skill." 
 — A cademy. 
 
 "There are some moods in which it is almost impossible to interest yourself in any 
 book. In such a mood I languidly picked up The Worldlings, and in a minute I was 
 interested. Mr. Merrick has the supreme art ... of making you want to know what 
 comes next. It is surprising how far it goes. . . . He treats the theme so cleverly that 
 Blake never loses your sympathy. That is another feature of Mr. Merrick's art. He 
 makes you exude sympathy. . . . Mrs. Fleming in_ other hands would be a mechanical 
 adventuress. He makes her real, not by false sentiment, or idealising humbug, but by 
 simple, truthful presentation." — Star. 
 
 "Amongst the flood of commonplace novels that keep pouring from the press it is a 
 keen delight to come upon a book like this, marked by so many qualities of the truest 
 literary art. We are struck by its intense realism in the very first chapter, and as we 
 proceed we find that besides its pervading sense of reality, the book is dominated by a 
 dramatic instinct of the rarest kind, and written in a style which for purity, exactness, 
 and restraint is the opposite of the slipshod verbiage into which so many even of our 
 better novelists frequently allow themselves to fall. . . . Without doubt this novel is 
 one of exceptional power." — Glasgow Herald. 
 
 " When men like Maurice Blake are less rare in fiction than they are in everyday life, 
 fiction will be in much closer touch with reality. . . . Mr. Merrick is writing fully up to 
 his already high reputation." — Sunday Special. 
 
 "The story is full of beauty and pathos. . . . We cannot be too grateful for such a 
 book as The Worldlings." — Churchwoman. 
 
 "The working out of this strange moral problem is supremely clever. Making 
 allowance for the artistic license ... it is true both in philosophy and religion. With 
 very difficult material to handle, Mr. Merrick has wrought out a most interesting novel — 
 and not the less interesting because it serves a great purpose." — Methodist Recorder. 
 
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