Warren’s Profession furtively with Hetty Widgett from the gallery of a Stage Society performance one Monday afternoon. The natural gaiety of the place seemed to have affected them both. How are you?” “I’m fine,” she said, unaware of all events except for the voice on the other line. She was saying good-bye to childhood and home, and her making; she was going out into the great, multitudinous world; this time there would be no returning. What would happen to her? Would her soul be shaken, twisted, hypnotized?—as it had been those other times? Music—that took out of her the sense of reality, whirled her into the clouds, that gave to her will the directless energy of a chip of wood on stormy waters. I am sure it will be good, John, and I could eat anything. . “Then you need to find someone else.
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