ants to publish the book. They think, down there, that
it will have a very pretty success--not be a big seller, of course, but
something comfortable."

Mrs. Verrian's eyes were suffused with pride and fondness. "And you
can always think, Philip, that this has come to you without the least
lowering of your standard, without forsaking your ideal for a moment."

"That is certainly a satisfaction."

She kept her proud and tender gaze upon him. "No one will ever know as
I do how faithful you have been to your art. Did any of the newspapers
recognize that--or surmise it, or suspect it?"

"No, that isn't the turn they take. They speak of the strong love
interest involved in the problem. And the abundance of incident. I
looked out to keep something happening, you know. I'm sorry I didn't ask
Armiger to let me bring the notices home to you. I'm not sure that I did
wisely not to subscribe to that press-clippings bureau."

His mother smiled. "You mustn't let prosperity corrupt you, Philip.
Wouldn't seeing what the press is saying of it distract you from the
real aim you had in your story?"

"We're all weak, of course. It might, if the story were not finished;
but as it is, I think I could be proof against the stupidest praise."

"Well, for my part, I'm glad you didn't subscribe to the clippings
bureau. It would have been a disturbing element." She now looked down
at the letters as if she were going to take them up, and he followed the
direction of her eyes. As if reminded of the fact by this, he said:

"Armiger asked me if I had ever heard anything more from that girl."

"Has he?" his mother eagerly asked, transferring her glance from the
letters to her son's face.

"Not a word. I think I silenced her thoroughly."

"Yes," his mother said. "There could have been no good object in
prolonging the affair and letting her confirm herself in the notion
that she was of sufficient importance either to you or to him for you to
continue the correspondence with her. She couldn't learn too distinctly
that she had done--a very wrong thing in trying to play such a trick on
you."

"That was the way I looked at it," Verrian said, but he drew a light
sigh, rather wearily.

"I hope," his mother said, with a recurrent glance at the letters, "that
there is nothing of that silly kind among these."

"No, these are blameless enough, unless they are to be blamed for being
too flattering. That girl seems to be sole of her kind, unless the g