but she
seemed to think nothing of his question. "If you like it," she said,
off-hand. "You want some revenge for Ally! But not in front of Hugh
or he'll guess when the book comes out, and that would be too terrible."

"No," he said with feeling, "that shall be our secret," and leant
slightly forward.

"When will it appear?" she asked excitedly: and he was as near cursing
the book, now, as he had been to blessing it, a moment earlier.

He left the house, however, shortly before seven o'clock, stepping upon
air. He had never expected to get her consent. Old Blatchley would
think him no end of a clever devil and Blatchley was a useful man.
Besides, the comedy and excitement of it all! And, best of all, it was
a new bond with--Zoe!

Gad, fancy having a ripping little girl like that as pal; and a secret
between them absolutely, from her husband even; and calling her Zoe,
which he knew in some odd Greek way was a jolly daring sort of name,
though he forgot quite how....

Yes, Geoffrey Alison was satisfied.

And as for Helena, with certain shapeless misgivings and fears there
mingled a most natural exaltation: since whether one writes for fame or
mere "fun," what can be more exciting than the acceptance of one's
first book by the first publisher who sees it?

She still could not understand it. She did not realise of course how
fresh her view of married life had been: she did not guess perhaps in
quite what sense her new-appointed agent had used the word "intimate";
she did not realise that the book's very blemishes were its chief claim
to Truth. She could see nothing in the thing at all.

But it was all exciting, very. She would just end it up: make poor
Virginia, who was Zoe now, work her way round to happiness, as Ally had
said that she must not kill her; then send it up to him and he had
vowed she should not even get a single letter; he literally would "do
the rest." Then if it failed, no harm was done and she had made her
secret yet more thrilling: whilst if in some mad way the book caught on
and she received those hundreds--well what a blessing they would be
just now with bills, and Hubert who was so silly with practical affairs
like that would merely imagine that she was running things more
cheaply. (Every woman, deep down, thinks every man a child.)

Besides--if Geoffrey Alison stepped lightly homewards upon air, Helena
too felt that the grey world stretched a little softer under her. That
shape