in, this London, in winter! It would
be a little better down at Finden.'

'A good deal better, I should think. If the weather were bad, it would
be bad in a natural way; but this is artificial misery.'

'I don't let it affect me much,' said Milvain. 'Just of late I have
been in remarkably good spirits. I'm doing a lot of work. No end of
work--more than I've ever done.'

'I am very glad.'

'Where are your out-of-door things? I think there's a ladies' vestry
somewhere, isn't there?'

'Oh yes.'

'Then will you go and get ready? I'll wait for you in the hall. But,
by-the-bye, I am taking it for granted that you were going alone.'

'I was, quite alone.'

The 'quite' seemed excessive; it made Jasper smile.

'And also,' he added, 'that I shall not annoy you by offering my
company?'

'Why should it annoy me?'

'Good!'

Milvain had only to wait a minute or two. He surveyed Marian from head
to foot when she appeared--an impertinence as unintentional as that
occasionally noticeable in his speech--and smiled approval. They went
out into the fog, which was not one of London's densest, but made
walking disagreeable enough.

'You have heard from the girls, I think?' Jasper resumed.

'Your sisters? Yes; they have been so kind as to write to me.'

'Told you all about their great work? I hope it'll be finished by the
end of the year. The bits they have sent me will do very well indeed. I
knew they had it in them to put sentences together. Now I want them to
think of patching up something or other for The English Girl; you know
the paper?'

'I have heard of it.'

'I happen to know Mrs Boston Wright, who edits it. Met her at a house
the other day, and told her frankly that she would have to give my
sisters something to do. It's the only way to get on; one has to take it
for granted that people are willing to help you. I have made a host of
new acquaintances just lately.'

'I'm glad to hear it,' said Marian.

'Do you know--but how should you? I am going to write for the new
magazine, The Current.'

'Indeed!'

'Edited by that man Fadge.'

'Yes.'

'Your father has no affection for him, I know.'

'He has no reason to have, Mr Milvain.'

'No, no. Fadge is an offensive fellow, when he likes; and I fancy he
very often does like. Well, I must make what use of him I can.

You won't think worse of me because I write for him?'

'I know that one can't exercise choice in such things.'

'True. I shouldn't like to