r, I respect
you all the more for endeavouring to be independent. I think,
however, it is quite possible that you may have considered my
other suggestion.

"Now, Flo, I should like to see myself in print--not myself as
I am, but my words, the ideas which come through my brain. I
long to see them before the world, to hear remarks upon them.
Will you, dear Flo, read the tale which I enclose, and if you
think it any good at all take it to a publisher and see if he
will use it? You had better find an editor of a magazine, and
offer it to him. It is not more than four thousand words in
length, and it is, I think, exciting; and will you put your
name to it and publish it as your own? I don't want the world
to know Bertha Keys writes stories, but I should like the world
to know the thoughts which come into her head, and if we make a
compact between us there can be nothing wrong in it, and--but I
will add no more. Do, do, dear Flo, make use of this story. I
do not require any money for it. Make what use of it you can,
and let me know if I am to send you further MSS.

"Your aunt, Mrs. Aylmer, is a little more snappish than usual.
I have a hard time, I assure you, with her. My great friend,
Maurice Trevor, returns, I think, in a day or two. Ah,
Florence, you little know what a great, great friend he is!

"Yours affectionately,

"BERTHA KEYS."

CHAPTER XVI.

ON THE BRINK OF AN ABYSS.

Florence sat for a long time with the manuscript of Bertha's story on
her lap. Having read the letter once, she did not trouble herself to
read it again. It was the sort of letter Bertha always wrote--the letter
which meant temptation, the letter which seemed to drag its victim to
the edge of an abyss.

Florence said to herself: "Shall I read the manuscript or shall I not?
Shall I put it into the fire or shall I waste a couple of pence in
returning it to Bertha, or shall I--"

She did not finish even in her own mind the last suggestion which formed
itself in her brain. She had not read the title of the manuscript, but
her thoughts kept wandering round and round it to the exclusion of
everything else. Presently she took it in her hand, and felt its weight,
and then she turned the pages one by one, and glanced at them for a
moment, and saw that they were all written out very neatly, in a sort of
copper-plate writing