had been rehearsing with a brown-haired star who objected that Zimbule's hair was too near her own colour. At the next rehearsal Zimbule appeared in a yellow wig. The star now developed a decided aversion to wigs. Zimbule dyed her hair. The star discharged her. I don't blame the dame, the girl said. She's forty-five and she looked ninety 'side o' me. I showed her up. At any rate, Zimbule was now free to appear in the Duke's opera.
The Duke began to exhibit a lively interest in the composition of the audience. There should be an audience of tired business men, he announced, American business men. It will amuse them; it will wake them up, he explained.
You have such romantic ideas about America, Campaspe expostulated. Is there such a thing as a business man in America? I suppose so. Cupid, even, does something down town. But we try to keep that sort of thing in the background. We try not to be aware of it. It is the smart thing to do nothing, or, at any rate, to appear to do nothing. It is even a trifle démodé to write or paint. Of course, she observed in conclusion, there are people from Chicago who might do.
Oh! those furtive people from Chicago! Paul exclaimed. Those wicked, rich Chicagoans, who come to New York to be naughty, like American sophomores in Paris. Once here, you would imagine that they devote their whole lives to libidinous adventures. But if you see them back in
