Then the woman looked up and there were genuine tears in
her eyes.
"The little brick!" said the voice of loveliness and thrills, "the
splendid little trump! Why, Camden, she had her ideals--real, fresh,
woman-ideals--not the ideals plastered on us women by men, who would
loathe them for themselves! She just picked up the scraps of her damaged
little affairs and went, without a whimper, to the doing of the only job
she could ever hope to succeed in. And she let the man-who-learned go!
Gee! but that was a big decision. She might so easily have muddled the
whole scheme of things, but she didn't! The dear, little, scrimpy,
patched darling.
"Oh! Camden, I want to be that girl for as long a run as you can force.
After the first few weeks you won't have to bribe folks to come--it'll
take hold, after they have got rid of bad tastes in their mouths and
have found out what we're up to! Don't count the cost, Camden. This is a
chance for civic virtue."
"Do you want more cigarettes, my dear?"
"No. I've smoked enough."
Camden drew the manuscript toward him. "It's a damned rough diamond," he
murmured.
"But you and I know it is a diamond, don't we, Camby?"
"Well, it sparkles--here and there."
"And it mustn't be ruined in the cutting and setting, must it?" The
angel was wearing her most devout and flattering expression.
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