“One.”
“Did you show it to Mrs. Clarendon?”
She shook her head.
Mr. Meres drummed upon his desk; there was an expression of pain on his forehead. But he dismissed it with a sigh.
“By-the-bye, this is a first manuscript?”
“Yes.”
“Never dare to show me one again! You are to copy the new story twice,—you understand?”
“Copying is terrible work.”
“So is every effort that leads to anything. You are beginning an apprenticeship; don’t think you can carve masterpieces straight from the block, or dash on frescoes without cartoon. Now shake hands with me and go. And Ada, if you can find it in your heart to do me a great kindness——-”
“Would I not?”