one hundred and twenty-five. If you'll endorse it, I'll send a clerk to
the bank round the corner and get it cashed for you at once."

The pen scrawled an agitated autograph that would not have been accepted
at the foot of a cheque, if Esther had had a banking account of her own.

"But I thought you said the book was a failure," she said.

"So it was," he answered cheerfully, "so it was at first. But gradually,
as its nature leaked out, the demand increased. I understand from
Mudie's that it was greatly asked for by their Jewish clients. You see,
when there's a run on a three-volume book, the profits are pretty fair.
I believed in it myself, or I should never have given you such good
terms nor printed seven hundred and fifty copies. I shouldn't be
surprised if we find ourselves able to bring it out in one-volume form
in the autumn. We shall always be happy to consider any further work of
yours; something on the same lines, I should recommend."

The recommendation did not convey any definite meaning to her at the
moment. Still in a pleasant haze, she stuffed the twelve five-pound
notes and the three gold-pieces into her purse, scribbled a receipt, and
departed. Afterwards the recommendation rang mockingly in her ears. She
felt herself sterile, written out already. As for writing again on the
same lines, she wondered what Raphael would think if he knew of the
profits she had reaped by bespattering his people. But there! Raphael
was a prig like the rest. It was no use worrying about _his_ opinions.
Affluence had come to her--that was the one important and exhilarating
fact. Besides, had not the hypocrites really enjoyed her book? A new
wave of emotion swept over her--again she felt strong enough to defy the
whole world.

When she got "home," Debby said, "Hannah Jacobs called to see you."

"Oh, indeed, what did she want?"

"I don't know, but from something she said I believe I can guess who
sent the half-sovereign."

"Not Reb Shemuel?" said Esther, astonished.

"No, _your_ cousin Malka. It seems that she saw Hannah leaving Zachariah
Square with you, and so went to her house last night to get your
address."

Esther did not know whether to laugh or be angry; she compromised by
crying. People were not so bad, after all, nor the fates so hard to her.
It was only a little April shower of tears, and soon she was smiling and
running upstairs to give the half-sovereign to the _Greeners_. It would
have been ungracious to