igned to be sure, and only in an obscure Hong Kong paper, but so
painfully outspoken that she had shown it to no one, not even to her
husband; and then rose up before her the vision of him writing similar
articles for London journals, and of the world, her world, knowing him
to be the author. She recognised her brother's cleverness, and it never
entered into her head to doubt that he could get his work into print;
she knew nothing of the financial side of journalism, and, for the
moment, what had formerly seemed the all-important question, Jimmy's
method of livelihood, was thrust into the background, owing to her fear
that he would do something to compromise both himself and his family.

Yet, the idea had taken her so greatly by surprise that at first she did
not know what to say. She was not afraid of offending Jimmy or of
hurting his feelings. To her, he was still a boy, who would; or at least
should, listen to her advice.

"Surely you don't mean that, Jimmy," she began. "I never dreamt of your
contemplating such a thing; and I shall be very sorry if you go on with
it. I am certain you will do yourself a lot of harm, for I know from
your letters that you have picked up a number of curious, and even
improper, ideas. We are all aware that there is a low public taste which
likes these things; but there are already more than enough writers
providing them. We had hoped that when you came home you would settle
down to regular work of some sort."

Jimmy had coloured a little. "What sort?" he asked quietly.

It was May's turn to flush; she did not quite like his tone, and,
moreover, she had no answer ready. "Some business, of course," she
answered tartly. "You have no profession. Henry has promised to see if
any of his friends have vacancies in their offices. I suppose you have
saved enough to keep you for a little while?"

Her brother got up rather suddenly. He had been alone so long, playing a
lone hand, that he had forgotten the great unwritten law of the Family
Inquisition, whose main clause is that the common rules of courtesy do
not apply when two of the same blood meet; but still, he recognised the
genuine kindness underlying the inquiry, and stifled his resentment,
which May would not have understood, because she and Walter and Ida were
in the habit of asking each other similar blunt questions.

"For a short time," he answered. "Enough for a week or two, and a friend
on the Press has put me in the way of getting