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 they have scarcely been introduced. My characters are actual men and women. I have one they cannot fail to appreciate; you will see yourself as others see you," he said, in softer tones.

An ecstacy of hope lighted her face.

"Will my husband appreciate me then?"—she regretted the question before she had voiced it.

"Will he appreciate you then? Listen, don't think that I speak to praise my own powers as a playwright. I have been a moderate success, but I don't regard myself as a genius. The play will be a success on account of the leading character which I hope to draw true to life. Robert loves you now, but when he sees my play he will worship you then."

There was that in his earnest, enthusiastic face that told her Robert would not be alone in his devotion.

"What do you call your play?"

"I've not determined yet; though I've thought of dubbing it 'A Womanly Woman, or My Heroine.'"

"Don't do that, for I am anything but a heroine."

"No woman was ever a truer one. What title would you propose?"

"You want something that would suggest my real character—my striking characteristics?"