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"
It wouldn't have needed so sensitive an ear as his to catch the girl's
full meaning. Christmas--this Christmas, the first since that mysterious
collapse of her life, whose effect he had seen, but whose cause he
couldn't guess--was going to be a terrible day for her. She had dreaded
lest it should be empty. He wanted to say, "You poor child!" But--this
was the simple fact--he was afraid to.
There was another momentary silence, and again Rose broke it.
"Do you think you'll be able to convince Mrs. Goldsmith," she asked,
"that her gowns don't look well on the stage?"
"Probably not," he said in quick relief. Rose had decided the issue for
herself; brought up the very topic he'd wanted to bring up; got him off
his dead center at last. Back of Rose, of course, was the municipal
Christmas tree with its power of suggesting a lot of ideas she must
fight out of her mind.
"Certainly not," he went on, "if you're right about her, and I fancy you
are, that her taste isn't negative, but bad, and that it's the very
hideousness of the things she likes.


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