Mr. Anderson here got up, and Florence, seeing that the interview was at an end, bowed and went away. Franks accompanied her downstairs.
"You will, of course, accept Mr. Anderson's offer?" he said.
"Of course I shall," replied Florence; "why should I not? But you are both under a mistake with regard to me. I do not suppose any other editors will want my contributions; but if you wish for them you can certainly have them."
She returned home, avoided Edith Franks, and stayed for the remainder of that day in her own attic.
"Soon my pecuniary difficulties will be at an end," she said to herself. "I have not the slightest doubt that I can get some more stories into the Argonaut this year. I shall soon get over my remorse; my conscience will soon cease to prick me. If I receive twelve guineas for each story I shall earn a considerable sum. I can then live easily. I do not mind how poorly I live if only I am assured of a certainty."
She walked across the room and looked out; the expression on her face had changed: it had grown hard and defiant. She took up her pen, drew a sheet of note-paper before her, and began to write:—
"Dear Bertha—
"The story is accepted by that new six-penny magazine, the Argonaut, and they want more. Please send me something else. I have succumbed to temptation, and am once again, as you so earnestly desire, in the toils.
"Yours,
"Florence Aylmer."