'What I should really prefer,' said Henry, 'would be so much on every copy sold.'
'Ah! A royalty?'
'Yes. A royalty. I think that is fairer to both parties,' said Henry judicially.
'So you'd prefer a royalty,' Mr. Onions Winter addressed Shakspere again. 'Well. Let me begin by telling you that first books by new authors never pay expenses. Never! Never! I always lose money on them. But you believe in your book? You believe in it, don't you?' He faced Henry once more.
'Yes,' said Henry.
'Then, you must have the courage of your convictions. I will give you a royalty of three halfpence in the shilling on every copy after the first five thousand. Thus, if it succeeds, you will share in the profit. If it fails, my loss will be the less. That's fair, isn't it?'
It seemed fair to Henry. But he was not Sir George's private secretary for nothing.
'You must make it twopence in the shilling,' he said in an urbane but ultimatory tone.
'Very well,' Mr. Onions Winter surrendered at once. 'We'll say twopence, and end it.'