"But please be seated. Rather than hold a book over until the spring, we could, of course, reopen our list and hold back other matter. What would be the earliest date—the assured date—that we could go over the manuscript?"
Cordelia could not say, but she boldly assumed it would be within a week's time.
"Hm-m-m-m! Then, I presume, Miss Vaughan, there is no reason that we should not handle the new story on practically the same basis as your earlier book; provided, of course, that it is satisfactory to our readers in every respect?"
Cordelia smiled quietly.
"I'm afraid not," she said.
"They were exceptionally generous terms."
"But this time I have an exceptional book," she retorted quite impassively. In the smoke of battle Ney had forgotten there was a Napoleon. For the moment she felt that the book was one of her own making.
"That may be quite true, but—" Mr. Henry Slater checked himself, and then asked more suavely: "What new terms would you suggest, Miss Vaughan?"
"My terms would be one thousand dollars down, with a royalty of twelve per cent on all copies up to the tenth thousand, and a royalty on all copies over the tenth thousand of twenty per cent."
An amused, sympathetic, and incredulous smile crept over Mr. Henry Slater's face.