ed your acquaintance with this branch of the
family?'

'I think not. At all events, she promised me she wouldn't.'

Amy looked at him inquiringly, in a puzzled way.

'She promised you?'

'Voluntarily. We got rather sympathetic. Your uncle--Alfred, I mean--is
a remarkable man; but I think he regarded me as a youth of no particular
importance. Well, how do things go?'

Amy shook her head.

'No progress?'

'None whatever. He can't work; I begin to be afraid that he is really
ill. He must go away before the fine weather is over. Do persuade him
to-night! I wish you could have had a holiday with him.'

'Out of the question now, I'm sorry to say. I must work savagely. But
can't you all manage a fortnight somewhere--Hastings, Eastbourne?'

'It would be simply rash. One goes on saying, "What does a pound or two
matter?"--but it begins at length to matter a great deal.'

'I know, confound it all! Think how it would amuse some rich grocer's
son who pitches his half-sovereign to the waiter when he has dined
himself into good humour! But I tell you what it is: you must really try
to influence him towards practicality. Don't you think--?'

He paused, and Amy sat looking at her hands.

'I have made an attempt,' she said at length, in a distant undertone.

'You really have?'

Jasper leaned forward, his clasped hands hanging between his knees. He
was scrutinising her face, and Amy, conscious of the too fixed regard,
at length moved her head uneasily.

'It seems very clear to me,' she said, 'that a long book is out of the
question for him at present. He writes so slowly, and is so fastidious.
It would be a fatal thing to hurry through something weaker even than
the last.'

'You think "The Optimist" weak?' Jasper asked, half absently.

'I don't think it worthy of Edwin; I don't see how anyone can.

'I have wondered what your opinion was. Yes, he ought to try a new tack,
I think.'

Just then there came the sound of a latch-key opening the outer door.
Jasper lay back in his chair and waited with a smile for his expected
friend's appearance; Amy made no movement.

'Oh, there you are!' said Reardon, presenting himself with the dazzled
eyes of one who has been in darkness; he spoke in a voice of genial
welcome, though it still had the note of depression. 'When did you get
back?'

Milvain began to recount what he had told in the first part of his
conversation with Amy. As he did so, the latter withdrew, and was absen