'My forte,' I answered, 'is—to go where I choose, and write what I like about it.'
He smiled again. 'And a very good new departure in journalism, too! A roving commission! Have you ever tried your hand at writing?'
Had I ever tried! It was the ambition of my life to see myself in print; though, hitherto, it had been ineffectual. 'I have written a few sketches,' I answered, with becoming modesty. As a matter of fact, our office bulged with my unpublished manuscripts.
'Could you let me see them?' he asked.
I assented, with inner joy, but outer reluctance. 'If you wish it,' I murmured; 'but—you must be very lenient!'
HE READ THEM, CRUEL MAN, BEFORE MY VERY EYES.
Though I had not told Elsie, the truth of the matter was, I had just then conceived an idea for a novel—my magnum opus—the setting of which compelled Egyptian local colour; and I was therefore dying to get to Egypt, if chance so willed it. I submitted a few of my picked manuscripts accordingly to Mr. Elworthy, in fear and trembling. He read them, cruel man, before my very eyes; I sat and waited, twiddling my thumbs, demure but apprehensive.
When he had finished, he laid them down.