dreariness¹⁵ or hardship, and somehow win her for his own.  Alas, now he comprehended only too fully¹⁰ what the Zeniths meant to himself.  Kitty would be a very rich young woman.  He could serve her in nothing at all.  What an irony¹⁶ that the man who had given him his first step upwards—and a great step, too—should be the man to set his dearest desire beyond his reach!  Well, there was nothing for it but to cleave¹⁷ to duty and have done with dreams.

 

Nevertheless it was a cheerful little dinner-party, and during it the love-lorn young man and Hilda Risk laid the foundations of a lasting¹⁸ friendship.  Towards the close of the repast Kitty was telling the host of her father’s unfinished novel which Mr. West had just completed.

 

“He did it in six days, Mr. Risk,” she said warmly, “and I could not have told that it was not my father’s own work.  It was wonderful.”

 

p. 171“Not at all,” said West, in his matter-of-fact voice.  “There was next to nothing for me to do, for the last act was foreshadowed.  It’s a great play, Risk.  Craven of the Planet, whom I got to read it right away, admitted as much this very day, though he wouldn’t accept it.”

 

“Why?” asked Risk.

 

“Too much unlike recent successes, I suppose,” said West drily.  “And I believe it would draw all London.”

 

“Miss Carstairs,” said Risk kindly, “wouldn’t you like to see your father’s play performed?”

 

The girl’s shining eyes answered for her.

 

“I think I can persuade Craven,” remarked Risk, turning to West.  “Can you arrange a meeting between us for the day after to-morrow?”

 

“By jove!” said West softly.  “The thing’s done!  Miss Carstairs, take my word for it, that play will bring you a little fortune.  Risk, God bless you!”

 

Kitty looked from one to the other.  “Is it—is it really and truly going to be?” she asked, tremulously.

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