She mounted the stairs of the theatrical agent’s office with very much less than her usual buoyancy, nor did she find much encouragement in the general appearance of the room into which she was shown. Mrs. I had a vague sort of idea that this was the region where one finds apartments, so I told my cabman to drive in this direction while I sat inside his vehicle and endeavoured to form a plan of campaign. “Don’t!” she begged. At this moment, his quick ears detected the sound of footsteps on the stairs. She knew the story only imperfectly, and followed it now with a passionate and deepening interest. One with the appearance of a bald little gnome yawned agonizingly. “Won’t you sit down,” she said, “and tell me what you want to say?” Her voice was flat and faint. Impressed with this idea, he paused for a moment to listen. “Oh! please don’t lose yourself in a wilderness of secondary considerations,” she said.
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