"I don't know what it is about music," she started to say, moved by the inexplicable longings which surged within her; "but it always makes me feel as if I wanted something--I----"
"Yes," he replied; "I know how you feel."
Suddenly he turned to considering the peculiarity of her disposition, expressing her feelings so frankly.
"You ought not to be melancholy," he said.
He thought a while, and then went off into a seemingly alien observation which, however, accorded with their feelings.
"The world is full of desirable situations, but, unfortunately, we can occupy but one at a time.It doesn't do us any good to wring our hands over the far-off things."
The music ceased and he arose, taking a standing position before her, as if to rest himself.
"Why don't you get into some good, strong comedy-drama?" he said.
He was looking directly at her now, studying her face.Her large, sympathetic eyes and pain-touched mouth appealed to him as proofs of his judgment.
"Perhaps I shall," she returned.
"That's your field," he added.
"Do you think so?"
"Yes," he said; "I do.I don't suppose you're aware of it, but there is something about your eyes and mouth which fits you for that sort of work."
Carrie thrilled to be taken so seriously.For the moment, loneliness deserted her.Here was praise which was keen and analytical.
"It's in your eyes and mouth," he went on abstractedly."I
remember thinking, the first time I saw you, that there was something peculiar about your mouth.I thought you were about to cry."
"How odd," said Carrie, warm with delight.This was what her heart craved.
"Then I noticed that that was your natural look, and to-night I