Audrey Craven is a pretty little woman with copper-colored hair and the soul of a spoiled child. Though "a good woman" she has a fatal fascination for most men. There are telling glimpses of the life of London writers and illustrators, and not a little humor.
aste time, and time's everything now. Is Miss Craven at home?"
"Miss Craven is always at home when I am. Would you like to see her?"
"See her? Good heavens, no! Do you know positively where she is secreting herself, or must I lock the door?"
"That is unnecessary. She will not come in--she never does."
A suspicious look darted from the corners of Hardy's eyes.
"Except when I ask her," added Audrey, sweetly.
"Well, then, if you can ensure me against the sort of interruption that annoyed me before, we will return to the question we were discussing when----"
"Please don't go over any old ground. That would bore me."
"It would bore me. I will begin where we left off. The problem, if you remember, was this--to put it baldly--do you care for me, or do you not?"
"Didn't we get any farther than that?"
"No, we didn't."
"Do I--or--do I not? Really I cannot tell you, Vincent, for I don't know myself."
"Nonsense! there's no logica