"Oh, yes," doubtfully, her eyes still on his face, "miners, stockmen,
engineers, but scarcely in your present employment."
"Miss Norvell," and Winston straightened up, "possibly I may be
employed here for a reason similar to that which has induced you to
travel with a troupe of barn-stormers."
She shrugged her shoulders, her lips smiling, the seductive dimple
showing in her cheeks.
"And what was that?"
"The ambition of an amateur to attain a foothold upon the professional
stage."
"Who told you so?"
"Mr. Samuel Albrecht was guilty of the suggestion.
"It was extremely nice of him to discuss my motives thus freely with a
stranger. But he told you only a very small portion of the truth. In
my case it was rather the imperative necessity of an amateur to earn
her own living--a deliberate choice between the professional stage and
starvation."
"Without ambition?"
She hesitated slightly, yet there was a depth of respect slumbering
within those gray eyes gazing so directly into her darker ones,
together with a strength she felt.
"Without very much at first, I fear," she confessed, as though
admitting it rather to herself alone, "yet I acknowledge it has since
grown upon me, until I have determined to succeed."
His eyes brightened, the admiration in them unconcealed, his lips
speaking impulsively.
"And what is more, Miss Norvell, you 'll make it."
"Do you truly believe so?" She had already forgotten that the man
before her was a mere stage hand, and her cheeks burned eagerly to the
undoubted sincerity of his utterance. "No one else has ever said that
to me--only the audiences have appeared to care and appreciate.
Albrecht and all those others have scarcely offered me a word of
encouragement."
"Albrecht and the others are asses," ejaculated Winston, with sudden
indignation. "They imagine they are actors because they prance and
bellow on a stage, and they sneer at any one who is not in their class.
But I can tell you this, Miss Norvell, the manager considers you a
treasure; he said as much to me."
She stood before him, the glare of the stage glinting in her hair, her
hands clasped, her dark eyes eagerly reading his face as though these
unexpected words of appreciation had yielded her renewed courage, like
a glass of wine.
"Really, is that true? Oh, I am so glad. I thought, perhaps, they
were only making fun of me out in front, although I have always tried
so hard to do my very best. You have given me a new hope that I may
indeed master the art. Was that my cue?"